


In Search Of More

by heckmedic



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, tags to be updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:51:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckmedic/pseuds/heckmedic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fight was difficult enough as it was. But BLU having health on tap? That made everything just so much harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ACT ONE: HORROR

**Author's Note:**

> AN: So! A multi-chapter fic coming from me, the monarch of one shots. Well, I wanted to try something different and test my abilities.The idea for this came out of an idea I'd had a while ago, but only recently bothered so sit down and plot out. It centers mostly around the idea that neither team had access to the Medi Gun from the start of the Gravel Wars, and what the results would be if one team made the technological leap before the other...And what the other team would do in order to catch up. I am writing this with a buffer to ensure updates in case of writer's block, but comments on chapters will still be greatly appreciated! Please tell me what (if anything) you enjoy about my writing and how I could improve! 
> 
> ~Leon

  **ACT ONE: HORROR**

**"** There will one day spring from the brain of science a machine or force so fearful in its potentialities, so absolutely terrifying, that even man, the fighter, who will dare torture and death in order to inflict torture and death, will be appalled, and so abandon war forever. **"**

 

~Thomas A. Edison


	2. The Default State

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Only the dead have seen the end of the war."
> 
> ~George Santayana

Medic's small world had erupted into chaos.

Thankfully, he was good at adapting.

Months ago, his first reaction would've been to cry out in shock and to cower, shaking, in the lee of a doorway or stack of crates or even another teammate. Now, he simply lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the flashes of explosions and muttered dark curses under his breath.

Scout was dying. Again. They all were. Their bodies were coursing with adrenaline, making their hands shake and breath ragged. Scout clawed uselessly at Medic's sleeves, drawing red streaks across the dirty white fabric. Medic pressed down on Scout's stomach harder-his reward was a cry of pain and a narrowly missed reflexive kick to the shin. Beneath his hands, Scout's belly was slick with blood. He could feel his organs slither around in the gaping slash across his stomach. Medic cursed again and reached into his first aid kit for another wad of bandages. He watched, senses dull to the carnage around him, as red seeped into the loosely woven white fibres. Hot desert sun beat down relentlessly on the scene below.

Scout had stopped thrashing so much now; his breaths came in shallow shudders, wracking his slim frame. His hands grasped at the sand and gravel of the ground as he struggled to stay sitting up against the wall. Tears of pain and shock cut rivulets through the black soot-grime on his cheeks. His legs, so certain and quick in their steps, the one thing he depended upon, were trembling uselessly. His left foot was in tatters- the BLU Soldier's shotgun had ensured there was little of it left to run on.

"Scout. Scout, listen to me."

Medic's voice was pitched carefully between a shout over the explosions and gunfire and a soothing murmur. Shaking, Scout gulped a breath and met his eyes.

"Y-yeah, Doc?"

"I can't do anything for you...Other than make it quick."

Scout swallowed again and reached up to compress the gauze over his belly as Medic instructed him.

"Pistol's...On my hip." He wheezed, struggling to maintain pressure on his wound as Medic reached over and unholstered his pistol. Medic sat back and chambered a round. In spite of the hell raging all around, the curses and stench of burning flesh in the air, the tremors of explosions which rocked the ground, Scout managed a shaky grin. _Mein Gott...How does he manage it?_ Medic thought.

"Thanks Doc.S-see ya in a few minutes."

"Ja" Medic sighed, flicking off the safety and pressing the gun to Scout's temple. His stomach clenched as he saw Scout's eyes flutter closed, only too eager for death and for release. He still had trouble getting himself to pull the trigger. But he managed it, and with ears ringing, he stood back from Scout's body as it slumped back against the wall. Staring at it for  a moment before tucking the pistol in his waistband, he headed off. There was always someone else waiting. Someone else screaming for him in the alleys and corners of the grounds. Someone living out the last few minutes of a now-miserable life until their wounds overcame them.

The battle had moved off now. Gunfire rattled to his right, somewhere on the other side of the grounds. Now and again, there'd be a faint flicker of light and the corresponding shudder in the ground from a rocket or bomb exploding. Smoke in their air made his eyes water and when he licked his lips, he could taste sweat and gasoline and the bitter copper tang of Scout's blood. Reaching up to his face absently, he noted that it was spattered all the way up into his hair. The warehouses and buildings of the Badlands were pocked and cratered with bullet holes. With the battle taking place elsewhere, somewhere near the BLU base as far as his hearing could tell, the other side of the grounds had a desolate, abandonned feel. Peaceful, in a devastated sort of way.

Medic stopped walking and went for his pistol when he was startled by the sound of footsteps running towards him. But it was only RED's Pyro- _their_ Pyro-making haste for the final control point. They waved briefly as they went past, sunlight flashing off red patches on their fire suit. Lungs heaving out of shock, Medic slowly lowered the pistol and hoisted his first aid kit higher up on his shoulder. It was very light now. At the start of the mission it'd been a struggle to carry it.

How many days had it been now? Over a year, at least. Now and again he'd come across tally marks etched into walls, left by Scout or Sniper, or perhaps members of the other team. They couldn't have been fighting for as many days as those tallies claimed though. No chance. Even though each day felt like a repeat of the last, they couldn't have been fighting for so long that entire doorframes were carved into splinters. Maybe the tallies were kills, instead. Did the carvers remember each and every one? _This one, a headshot on the enemy soldier. That one, blunt force head trauma to the enemy Medic_. He frowned. At the end of the day, they were just pointless catalogues of moments now forgotten, bursts of pride and marks of proof for behind-base bets.

How many dollars, he wondered, had been won over his name in the BLU base? Did their Demoman slap bills onto the table and shout " _Ah bet I can off their Doctor three times today!_ " like theirs did? If so, perhaps they were not so different. His weary feet trudged through the sand and gravel, avoiding the parts that were thick with blood and oil where they might stick to his boots. The fighting sounded closer now; he heard one of the Scouts scream "Oh yeah!", then the loud crack of a Sniper's rifle. Out of habit, he glanced into his first aid kit and scowled. Low on bandages. Scout tended to bleed a lot more than the others when he got a stomach shot.

Medic ducked into one the buildings and was greeted by the chirp of one of Engineer's sentry turrets. There was a dispensor set up next to it, so Medic knelt and began mechanically stuffing medical supplies into his kit. Before he left, he patted the turret goodbye and turned down the corridor. Glancing into an open doorway nearly cost him his nose as Sniper turned, surprisingly agile for such a tall man, and flung a knife which had been waiting beside him should the need have arisen. Medic watched it wobble in the wall behind him before tugging it out and returning it.

"How you doin', Doc?" The Australian asked, as if commenting on the weather.

Medic rubbed his sleeve over his face, trying to clear off the blood that had cooled on his skin.

"Not well. I just had to send Scout to respawn. Pyro passed me on my way up here."

Sniper nodded sagely.

"Good job, too. Need every hand we can get for the centre point."

Sniper gestured to the window he had been shooting from. The hide smelt of gunpowder and smoke. Medic squinted out into the bright of day. Down below, a melee of BLUs and REDs fought and kicked and bit each  other for rights to the final control point. It didn't look like either side was winning...Until the BLU Pyro stepped up and strafed the scene with their flamethrower. He watched as the BLU Medic leapt onto the scene, helping their Demoman to beat out the flames clinging to his arms and chest before lifting his arm over his shoulders and helping him limp off. The other Medic's face broadcast nothing but fatigue. the RED Medic could relate.

"Are you going to head down to assist?" Medic said...

...Or tried to say. In reality, he only managed half of that sentence as in the middle of it fiery pain blossomed in his back around a cold, steely intrusion. The sound of the BLU Spy decloaking made Medic wish he'd just die already, if only to have the sombre walk back to the bridge as a few moments of peace. His fumbling hand found the butterfly knife, rammed up to the hilt in his muscles, just below his shoulderblades. Hot warmth was quickly spreading out around it, dyeing what little white was left on his coat a dark black-red.

"Oh." was all he could say before he hit the ground, vision fading to black. The last thing he heard before the whiteness of respawn took him was Spy's bored sigh as he reclaimed his now-bloodied knife.

* * *

The drive back to base was uneventful. Sniper said nothing as he drove one of the three beat up pick-ups which ferried them to and from work-Administration had figured it probably wasn't a good idea to have them all sleeping in the same place they spent their days fighting. Medic picked at a plaster wrapped around his thumb. The valley the RED base was nestled in loomed up out of the desert. Sniper slowed the pickup to a crawl and parked beside the garage, reaching to light a cigarette as Medic got out and thanked him for the ride. Predictably, the rest of the team was in a foul mood. He saw Scout hopping out of one of the other pickups before storming across the courtyard and kicking and empty soda can viciously. Spy, having returned with an earlier vehicle, smoked bleakly beside the garage entrance. Medic decided to follow suit and avoid socialising. The loss was everyone's fault, in a way, but someone, somewhere would find blame to lay and Medic didn't want to be around when people started pointing fingers and throwing bottles. That was usually what evenings devolved into on lost days.

He walked to his infirmary as if on autopilot. How many losses in a row now? Six? Eight? Twenty seven? Surely there couldn't be many more fights until BLU won the Badlands. In a way, he hoped they would. Then there would at least be a change of scene and the mercenaries could occupy themselves with breaking camp. Scout's sullen mood might be broken by the oppurtunity to run laps around a new base, map new attack strategies. If BLU just hurried up and won this damn war, they could all go home. Medic never thought he'd miss the damp suburb of Stuttgart he'd carved a back-alley practice out in. At least life had been peaceful there, and the only worry he'd had was a raid from the notably lax police force on a bad day.

He pushed through the double doors of the infirmary with fatigue weighing down his limbs. He unceremoniously dumped the first aid kit on an empty gurney bed before sitting down with a sigh at his desk. For a moment or two, he just enjoyed the silence of the infirmary-the buzz of fluroscent lights overhead, the hum of the air conditioning. It was a pleasant if mundane change to the hell he'd had to endure earlier.

But then he made himself stretch and wince at the popping of his aging joints before unlocking his desk drawer and rooting around for a particular manilla folder.

This one was dogeard and worn through, decorated on the front with rings from the bottoms of coffee cups and absent-minded doodles in three different colours of pen. He flipped it open and pushed all the pages inside over before adding a clean, blank sheet of paper. He stared at it for a moment before taking up a pen and adding the date in the top corner: _19th September 1969_. He regarded those solemn letters for a moment before skipping a few lines of paper and writing anew.

_Another BLU victory. Had to send Scout to respawn once and Pyro three times. Administered a shot of morphine to the Demoman in the field and splinted the Soldier's broken arm. Running low on gauze and iodine-need to resend requisitions paperwork for a third time. Still awaiting first shipment. Suspect Pyro of thieving paper towels and rubbing alcohol. Note: keep potential combustibles under lock and key from now on._

He dotted his last sentence finished and filed the diary away. He knew he wouldn't be allowed to leave with it if and when the war was finally over and he, presumably, wasn't dead by then. But it gave him a small sense of comfort to keep track of each day, his own little tally count, so that he didn't go mad. Or, at least, not so quickly as he would otherwise.

He filed away the diary and locked the drawer. It wouldn't be safe from Spy, should he ever wish to read the dull recollections of a tired field medic, but it was private as he could make it. Not that he wrote anything sensitive in there anyway-a life spent around the same eight men for nearly two years made for a surprisingly dull daily routine, when not burying scalpels into the chests of enemies.

He yawned and flicked off his desk lamp, tempted to sleep right there and then in his chair. But his back protested to that idea, so he bundled up his stained white coat and threw it in the laundry hamper before heading to the mess hall for some food.

It had been a long, difficult day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: As I said in the opening chapter (well, quote, really) I stated that I wanted to explore the idea of the role of the Medic's prior to the event of the Medi Gun, and how their position within the team and the way their team mates saw them would change as this technology became available. Also, I wanted so practice writing gore, so there's that.
> 
> As always, please comment what (if anything) stood out to you in my writing and if there's anything I could improve on, as well as anything you look forwards to! Every Kudos helps me out a lot, but comments really make my day.
> 
> ~Leon


	3. The New Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Whoever is winning at the moment will always seem to be invincible."  
> ~George Orwell

Whatever gods the rest of the team believed in must've been smiling down at them. Their winning streak against BLU had lasted a whole week-the longest ever for them-and predictably the entire team was on a rush. Every evening was now an excuse to party, each little thing a reason to celebrate. The air of dejection and sense of failure surrounding them had evaporated swiftly. It made a nice change to the sour, aggressive mob the team dissolved into otherwise. Scout was, perhaps, the worst. Medic could hear him whistling merrily as he went up and down the halls, stopping now and again to tap out random beats against walls and the backs of chairs, his own one-man band. Even Sniper, recluse that he was, had been waiting around in the evenings and joining in on a few hands of cards. For a short time, things were almost pleasant between them, and Medic didn't have team mates coming to him at unholy hours of the morning asking for plasters or icepacks or painkillers to help them get over scuffles they'd had amongst themselves.

If Medic was supposed to enjoy his job, then the last week was as close as he had come to doing so. The work itself was still brutal in every sense of the word, but at least it was finally starting to pay off.

When they all met in respawn for the start of the match that day, they were all chatting and laughing as if they were normal men, discussing last night's football match around the water cooler. Instead of handing out paper cups, however, pouches of ammunition were exchanged and mislaid weapons located;

"Crap, anyone got a spare clip of buckshot?"

"Yeah, right here" Scout called, throwing it underarm to Sniper.

Soldier and Demo were beside their lockers, checking fuses and Spy stood by the door, sliding bullets into the chamber of his revolver. In their own way, they were just as companionable as co-workers in an office; team mates with similar jobs stuck together and those who didn't drifted among the groups that had formed, offering help with sheathing blades or jammed magazines.

Medic, naturally, was the most well-prepared of all of them and with only a pistol of his own and a couple of scalpels tucked in his belt for easy access later, he was able to move among the other mercenaries, helping them to crack their joints or applying plasters to last minute paper cuts. He was just helping Sniper to ease his back pain by running his elbow firmly up and down the Australian's spine when the intercom shrieked:

" _Two minutes until mission!"_

Activity renewed among them and Scout decided last minute he wanted to switch to his other bat. Demo, still sober, sat at a bench and began triple checking his belts of grenades and pistol rounds. Spy, waiting patiently, checked his watch and lit up a cigarette, quickly filling the small locker room with smoke that made Medic's eyes water. He finished being an impromptu chiropractor for Sniper and fished around for some more bundles of gauze and morphine shots to add to his kit. He could afford to be a little more lenient with when he dealt them out now, as a new shipment had arrived two days ago and they were currently over supplied.

The countdown was silent up until the last ten seconds, but by then, they were all already lined up along the threshold of the large sliding door, flicking off safeties and impatiently bouncing on their heels. After a long winning streak like this, they were almost looking forwards to a day of death and destruction. Medic wondered fleetingly if up until a week ago this was how the BLU team felt, lining up in their own respawn room.

" _Mission begins now!_ "

As the door slid upwards, Scout, as always, was the first out, with Soldier quick on his heels. Medic stuck close to Heavy for protection until he could get into cover, ears straining for that first call of aid. It wasn't long until he heard it-off to the left, from Demo. His grenade launcher hung limply from its strap over his shoulder and he had his hand clamped to his bicep-already his uniform was stained with blood. Medic gestured over the stack of crates towards Heavy, who nodded and began laying down cover fire so Demo could awkwardly jog over and skid to a halt behind him. Medic was already prying off his hand and wiping down the wound and after a few seconds, he deemed it superficial and quite firmly jabbed the needle of the morphine shot he'd been holding between his teeth in the Scotsman's shoulder. He depressed the plunger and yanked it back out again, refilling the syringe with air and returning it to a loop of fabric on the strap of his first aid bag. In a pinch, an embolism was a surprisingly effective way of dealing with BLUs when they got a little too close for comfort.

And so the mission went on, RED controlling the flow of battle with relatively little effort, until the centre point came into competition again. Medic listened to the Administrator call that out over the intercom and groaned. If they were going to have trouble today, it was going to be over that _Gott verdammt_ centre point. This was one of the rare occasions when Medic hated to be right.

He was fumbling with the buttons on Spy's suit jacket, trying to get it off of him so he could get some antiseptic onto a nasty burn that ran right up his side, when everything went to shit. He had his back to the battle and was irregularly snapping at Spy to _stay awake_ when he heard something that very much put fear into him. If he ever heard Scout say what he did then, the _exact_ way he did then, Medic always knew that something very fucking bad was going to happen.

"Oh. My. God." And Scout said it with such dread and fear and revulsion in his voice that Medic was distracted from Spy, who gratefully passed out at that moment, to turn and see what all the fuss was about.

At first, he didn't get it.

But then, he saw through the chaos, saw the RED team one by one turn and look and see the exact same thing he was seeing, before turning and hauling ass, never mind about the control point.

It started off with a faint blue glow that got stronger and stronger. Then, he heard the laughter. That booming, manic, Russian laughter that was so familiar and so alien both at once. The BLU Heavy crested the bodies piled on the control point. Medic registered that his minigun was pumping out bullets by the dozen, but didn't hear the chainsaw chatter that went along with that fact. He was more preoccupied, however, with the fact the BLU Heavy was completely and utterly...Blue. Solid sapphire, except his eyes, which glowed bright white. He watched, fascinated and pinned down like a deer in headlights, as a red laser dot zigzagged across the ground before coming to rest right between the Heavy's eyes. He heard Sniper take the shot.

Watched it ping like a grain of rice off of the goliath's skin.

A new figure appeared next to the Heavy. His chest too was heaving with manic laughter that just couldn't quite be heard over everything else. He too was wrought all of solid sapphire, eyes ablaze. Strapped to his back was some mechanical monstrosity that shuddered and quaked. Connected to it was a hose, which the BLU Medic held and had aimed at the Heavy. Something made of blueness and light which-no it couldn't be light because light didn't bend like that-dispersed over the Heavy's back like ripples in a pond. Medic stared, his hand slipping away from Spy's side.

Then, the wind changed and Medic's white coat flapped loudly. The Heavy turned and brought the gun around.

The world turned blinding white.

When he and Spy came to in Respawn, they looked across at Scout, who had his head in his hands and was staring blankly at the tiled floor. Medic didn't say anything, but he looked and he saw and he very much felt exactly the same way.

* * *

By the time the end of the mission rolled around, everyone had seen the BLU Medic's contraption of horror at least once.

It was no surprise that after the event of the BLU Medic and his armour-plated Heavy, they'd lost the battle by miles.

So nobody said anything when Scout leaped into the driver's seat of the pickup truck and jammed the key viciously into the ignition. Nobody said anything either when he fumbled the gears, making the truck screech at the same time as it bolted out of the battlegrounds. Nobody said anything still when he audibly shoved his foot to the floor and had the truck zipping down the highway at who fucking knew how many miles an hour.

Soldier, even, was silent, as Scout took the speed bumps heading into the RED base way too fast, making the truck buck wildly . Then, he finally said something, and he said it very loudly, as he hit the steering wheel with the heels of his hands and flung open the door;

"Goddamn motherfucking god damn fucking shit-"

"Get the keys" Engineer muttered. Medic nodded and took them, killing the engine. Scout continued to swear as he stormed around in circles, kicking up clouds of dust.

"-bastard fucking BLUs, should 'a fuckin' known they'd-"

Engineer sighed and hopped out of the cab. Medic opened his door and followed. He didn't notice that the keys were cutting little serrated marks into his red rubber gloves. Spy was smoking morosely in the cab of the other pick-up. Soldier flicked the safety of his rocket launcher on, off, on, off. Demo drank. Deeply.

"-Goddamn, we should 'a seen it comin', fuckin' creep ass Medic of theirs-"

Pyro, surprisingly, was the one who took charge of the situation. From where he had been crouched in the back of Scout's pickup, hands on his head, he suddenly sat up and ripped off his gas mask. Then he vaulted the edge of the truck and marched up to Scout before smartly cuffing him round the head. Scout, livid, turned on him and in seconds the two were spitting and fighting like alley cats, rolling around on the dusty floor. Scout was the one throwing the desperate, panicky punches and screaming at the top of his lungs. Pyro, remarkably restrained, held himself back and blocked Scout's punches where he could, absorbing them with a muffled grunt where he couldn't.

Eventually, Scout ran out of anger or energy and he sat back on his heels, allowing Pyro to roll away and get to his feet, beating the red sand out of his short dreadlocks. In the silence that suddenly settled, Medic heard Spy open the door of his pickup and walk over to the base door, shoes crunching quietly on the gravel. Before he opened it and slipped inside, he drew one last drag on his cigarette, crushed it under his heel and said:

"Team meeting. Mess hall. Fifteen minutes."

They all heard the door slap shut and Engineer's tired sigh afterwards. Medic wordlessly handed the keys back to him, still staring at the door Spy had shut neatly, tightly closed on the argument for the next fifteen minutes. As Engineer moved the pickup to the garage, Sniper stepped up beside Medic, groaning under his breath as he bent to retrieve Pyro's dropped gas mask.

"I saw you take the shot. Please tell me I was mad with fatigue, and that their Heavy went down like a lead balloon."

Sniper sighed, rubbed the dust off the lenses of the gasmask with his thumb.

"Sorry, Doc. Everythin' you saw at the centre point's exactly how it happened, s'far as I can tell."

It was Medic's turn to sigh anxiously then, but he finally broke his gaze away from the door and walked across the ring of disturbed earth where Scout and Pyro had fought just minutes ago.

"Forgive me for saying that I sincerely hope you are wrong, Herr Sniper."

"I hope I'm wrong, too Doc. I really, honestly do."

* * *

The meeting, predictably, stopped being a meeting about thirty seconds after the last one of them sat down at the table. Silence ruled, until Spy spoke up:

"I think we can all agree that this is a very concerning development-"

And that was when everything went to shit for the second time that day. Scout, reaching the end of his fuse in a split second, jumped up so quickly that his chair fell over and clattered to the floor. He violently jabbed a finger at Spy, who maintained his usual expression of cold aloofness.

"Yeah, s'easy for you to say that. I bet you knew about that goddamn thing all along-"

"I can assure you that I am just as surprised as everyone else-"

"Like hell! Isn't it you job to, y'know, fuckin' spy on them and learn about shit like this-"

"-It is _not_ that straightforward-"

"-You Frenchies are just so God damn good at lyin', aren't ya-"

And then Soldier joined in with a fist on the table and Demo was roaring for everyone to shut up because he had a headache. Medic watched Sniper roll his eyes heavenwards and lean back in his chair. That was a feeling Medic could very much sympathise with. Again, it was Pyro who took charge.

He was a striking figure, their pyrotechnician. He had skin just as dark as Demo's, except a streak of unpigmented skin cut across his face from the tip of one eyebrow to the opposite corner of his mouth. His eyes were a warm golden colour and his upper lip was lifted just slightly into a permanent smile by a scar that tugged on his flesh. Normally he kept his dreadlocks held back by a thin band of elastic around his hairline, but in the fight with Scout it must've come off, because now his dreads hung around his sharp face like a lion's mane. The lighter he'd been flicking on and off skipped across the table and into Spy's lap as he threw it and slapped both hands on the table hard enough to make it shake. Sniper opened his eyes again, listening.

"Will you all just _shut up_ for three _goddamn_ seconds?"

And surprisingly, they did. Soldier slowly sat back down in his chair. Pyro, surprised that that had worked, nervously combed his dreadlocks back behind his ear and all of a sudden looked nervous.

"Ok...Ok. Spy's right-don't interrupt me, Scout- and I don't think any of us had any idea that BLU had this...Thing up their sleeve. But now we know and we've gotta find some way to fight back against it."

Sniper pitched in.

"The firebug's got a point. But where do we start?"

"Well, I only got a couple glances at that thing 'fore their Medic flew off doing God-knows-what, but it looked like some sorta machine or somethin'" Engineer added.

"If it's a machine, we can break it right?" Scout asked, excitement colouring his voice. Medic took that chance to add his voice to the discussion.

"It will likely not be that simple. This...Device, whatever it is, is capable of doing things which should be scientifically impossible. I watched Sniper shoot their Heavy clean in the head and the bullet bounced off him as if it were nothing."

"'s true" Sniper added simply.

"Yeah, but, like, it can't be invincible or somethin', can it?"

"We shall have to see. But this is something to think about in the morning, when we aren't all still recovering from battle."

Medic ended the discussion firmly and cleanly. Spy nodded to himself as the team dissolved to their areas of the base, muttering and arguing quietly with one another. Pyro watched them go carefully and looked a little startled when Sniper tapped lightly on his shoulder. He was still wearing the red fire suit and it was plastered with dust from his wrestle with Scout.

"Think you dropped this, mate."

Pyro's gas mask was held out in Sniper's hand. He took it and muttered an absentminded "Thanks" before tying it to his belt by the straps and heading off the same way Scout had done.

Sniper hung back and watched him go.

"The kid's got a point, y'know."

"Pyro or Scout?"

Sniper shrugged and crossed his arms.

"Both of them, I s'pose. Whatever technology's rattlin' around in that thing, it can't be completely bulletproof, so to speak."

"Indeed. Neither, perhaps, the Medic carrying it."

There wasn't much for either of them to say after that, so Sniper excused himself and Medic rested his hands on the now empty table, a headache quickly forming behind his eyes.

He felt that his job was suddenly about to get a whole lot harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: dun dun dun! I realise now tht perhaps there's no good reason for BLU to come up with the Medi Gun before RED other than my own dastardly need for plot devices. Oh well. Please let me know what you think of this chapter, including any ways it might be improved!
> 
> ~Leon


	4. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let our advance worrying become advance thinking and planning." 
> 
> ~Winston Churchill

** CHAPTER THREE **

_ The Plan _

Somehow, thankfully, the team followed doctor's orders and Medic was able to get an undisturbed night's sleep. The sleeping pills, however, weren't strong enough to stop him from waking early, as he always did. He shaved and dressed slowly, afraid for what would happen in the day ahead. Still, when he looked in the mirror, all brushed and tidy, he could almost pretend not to see the deep worry in his eyes so Medic decided that would have to be enough and left for the mess hall in search of coffee.

Sniper was always the first one up one base, without fail. It also just so happened, much to Spy's chagrin, that he made the best coffee. Medic helped himself to some whilst Sniper read the newspaper. Why did he care so much? It wasn't like they got to explore the local towns much anyway.

"Mornin' Doc."

"Guten morgen."

"We're gonna get absolutely thrashed today."

Medic paused with the mug of coffee halfway to his lips. Sniper didn't lower the newspaper, only nonchalantly turned a page.

"Why do you sound so pleased about that prospect?"

"'m not pleased. Just makin' an observation. No point in gettin' all riled up about somethin' we know's gonna happen."

Medic disliked Sniper's pessimism. If he wanted negativity, he'd talk to Spy.

"You cannot know that for certain."

"True. But it'd take a bloody miracle to get back on a winning streak after yesterday, with or without whatever their Medic's got strapped to his back."

"Hmm."

At that moment, the door slammed open and Soldier walked in, with Demo and Heavy close behind. After that, the time until battle disappeared in a melee of cereal bowls, eagle jokes and the usual fighting as to who got to call shotgun in the various pickups for the drive to work.

Medic hated to admit it, but Sniper was right.

As soon as battle commenced, it became blatantly obvious that whatever lead they'd had on BLU was quickly vanishing into the distance. When their Medic wasn't leading charges with the invulnerable Heavy, he was undoing whatever damage RED managed to make-apparently that damn gun or whatever it was could heal as well as provide immunity to bullets.

Mercifully, that effect only appeared to last a few seconds, so Sniper quickly made it a mission to get the Medic whenever and wherever he could. It didn't help them win the battle, of course, but it did count for something.

Over the next few days, they tried everything to get that gun out of commission.

Scout and Engineer headed a solo mission to try and poison the fuel canisters of the gun. Didn't work. The next day, Spy successfully placed a sapper on the backpack part of the gun, which was effective, until the BLU Medic simply turned around and pulled it right off again. Soldier even attempted to stuff the nozzle of the thing with potatoes...The less said about that, the better. The next week became a conflagration of increasingly desperate ideas  and more resounding failures. The only solution apparently was to fight back even harder and make sure that the BLU Medic couldn't so much as sneeze without getting a bullet to the head or a knife to the belly.

It didn't take long for Administration to catch onto whatever BLU had going on. The announcement came on a Friday evening, when battle had just finished and they were all beat up and bloody, eager to change out of stained clothes. Medic was bent over Pyro's head with a fine pair of tweezers, trying to pull out some shards of glass that had embedded themselves into the skin above his eyebrow.

"Attention, RED team. As of Monday, the mission will be to acquire BLU intelligence at all costs. When successful, you will use this intelligence to construct a medicinal field gun either equivalent to or exceeding the quality of that which the BLU team has already produced. The coordinates of your new base will be forwarded to the Scout within the hour. Good day."

Scout stared up at the intercom as if it were a pile of dog shit.

"Movin', again?"

"It would seem." Medic replied lightly, deftly whisking glass out of Pyro's skin. He didn't flinch as Scout swore and hurled his bat to the floor with a clatter. Moving base effectively translated to "BLU wins." At least they'd be leaving the Badlands-Medic had just about had enough of emptying sand out of his boots. Scout sighed and gave his bat one last morose kick before he headed to the control room and waited to intercept the coordinates. His dry optimism echoed down the corridor:

"Heck, maybe they'll send us somewhere nice this time...Like the Bahamas!"

Medic chuckled softly at that. But he supposed it'd be too much to ask for that Medic's monstrosity to be felled by a little bit of salt water. Pyro waited patiently whilst Medic deftly removed the last few shards of glass and winced when the little grazes were wiped over with alcohol. By then, the rest of the team had departed and only Engineer remained, listening to the radio in the cab of the pickup.

Pyro preferred to feel the open air on his skin, so he sat in the bed of the truck and held onto the guard rails whilst Engineer moved off towards the base. The two men were both absorbed by their thoughts until Engineer spoke up:

"So. Build a Medi Gun, huh?"

Medic stared out of the window. Every now and again he would see Pyro's arm in the wing mirror as he settled back against the side of the truck.

"We shall need the blueprints first."

"D'you reckon BLU's got 'em in that briefcase, then?"

"Undoubtedly. The question is, will we be able to work from them? What if they have placed dummies or sabotaged the originals so our version does not work?"

"You're gettin' ahead of yourself, Doc. Let's just get our mitts on that briefcase first."

They arrived at base shortly after and were greeted by Demo, Already crates of brown bottles were stacked up next to the door and Soldier barked orders from the garage as the team prepared to break camp.

"Sniper an' Scout want to talk to ye, lad."

Medic slid from the truck and folded his coat over his arm.

"Are they planning another solo mission, like before?"

Demo nodded. "Aye. They want some help packing first aid kits to take in case things get nasty. I told 'em we'd help pack up their stuff whilst they're gone."

Medic thanked Demo and headed down to the control room. Scout and Sniper were both there, with Scout sat before the console, pressing a hand to his headset and scrawling down notes on a paper pad. Sniper smoked.

"Demo said you wanted to speak to me?"

Scout turned and snapped a finger at Sniper to handle the conversation before he turned back to the paper pad and murmured for the person on the other end to continue. Leaving Scout to his work, they both left the door pushed to and spoke in the corridor.

"Yeah, yeah. Scout reckons this place is somewhere up in the mountains to the north. Gonna take us a week to get there, scout the place fully. Engineer and Demo agreed to be relay on the radio."

"Sounds good. You'll need some fairly comprehensive first aid if there isn't a hospital nearby. Do you expect trouble?"

Sniper grinned and leaned easily against the wall.

"Only if the BLUs get there first and decide to make trouble. Should be pretty quiet otherwise."

"You aren't going to take anyone else? A week alone with Scout might not be beneficial to your mental health."

Sniper barked a laugh at that and made an apologetic face when Scout hissed at them to quiet down.

"Actually, funny you should mention that. Pyro came up to talk to us a couple nights ago, said that next time we were gonna go solo he wanted to come along."

"That sounds...Unusual. Did he say why?"

Sniper shrugged. "Just said about wantin' to see some new places, explore, the usual thing you'd expect to hear, I guess."

"I don't see that it could do any harm-I'll make sure to add burn treatments to the kits, just in case."

"I'll let Scout know that Pyro's comin' along when he's done with the coordinates. We're taking the green land rover, if anyone ropes you in for help with packing."

Medic excused himself and returned to infirmary to put together some first aid kits. He made sure to cover all the basics; stitches, fever medication, painkillers, salves for burns and bug bites. He looked at the little bags and thought for a moment before packing in some extra gauze and rubbing alcohol, as well as forceps. Who knows, maybe BLU would be there? Better prepare for bullet wounds, just in case.

It took about a day for the rover to be loaded up and checked over. Pyro seemed excited for the opportunity to go with them, even though it was unlikely he'd be able to contribute much to the scouting mission. Medic talked the three of through on how to give each other basic first aid, tend to wounds and prevent infection and so forth. As he had expected, Scout tuned out after about five minutes, but Pyro was an attentive listener and even jotted down little notes for himself.

They departed a few hours later in a cloud of dust and Medic had little time to worry about them, because the six men who remained behind were spending the majority of their remaining time at Badlands tying up loose ends and disarming various systems. In spite of being so busy, Medic did find himself wondering now and again just what the scouting party were getting up to.

MONTANNA STATE, CLEARWATER REGION, ELEVATION: 6746 FT.

The drive had mostly been uneventful. Pyro couldn't drive stick shift, so Sniper and Scout took turns, sleeping across the back seat. It was about a day's drive to get there, and they reached coordinates by sunrise. Scout yawned and got out of the rover with creaking joints, making a few athletic stretches to try and get the blood circulating to his legs again. When he bent down to touch his toes, the soil felt cool and loamy, thick with moss and living things.

They ate a quick breakfast of granola bars and Sniper sighted the base out from about half a mile away, dictating to Scout what he could see through the scope. Pyro third wheeled a little, until he was allowed control of the radio back to badlands. When he buzzed through to check in, Engineer picked up.

"Badlands, this is RED One checking in, over."

"We hear ya, RED One. How're things lookin' over there?"

Pyro lifted his head and looked out over the tall pine trees. He could just make out the corrugated roof of the base, and hear Sniper and Scout discussing things like elevation and extraction points.

"Pretty good, Badlands. Loads of pine trees all over the place, pretty high up. Not dry though-not the sort of place for bush fires to break out."

Pyro suppressed a smile at Engineer's low laugh.

"Bet that makes ya sad, firebug. Oh, and 'fore you, go, Medic said to tell ya to watch out for racoons; those little bastards carry rabies."

"Will do, Badlands. Over."

Pyro set down the receiver and blew into his hands to warm them. The air was damp with dew and made him feel a chill through his hoodie. Scout and Sniper couldn't see any sign that the base was inhabited yet, so they decided to move a little closer and pitch a couple of field tents for the night. There was nearly an argument when Scout refused to allow Pyro to sleep in the same tent as him ("I ain't gonna let some guy spoon me in my sleep, Snipes!") but the argument was settled quickly by Sniper, who confessed to being such a loud snorer that nobody sharing a tent with him would get a wink of sleep. Scout in the end didn't seem too upset, and Pyro was a quiet, considerate tent mate who didn't say anything when Scout insisted on stealing most of the air mattress for himself.

As night fell and the other two men fell quickly to sleep (Sniper did in fact snore as loudly as he claimed), Pyro nuzzled into the warm lining of his sleeping bag and resisted the urge to flick his lighter on and off. He could hear the sounds of the forest around him as insects chirruped and owls called to one another. In the dim interior of the tent, he could see Scout's frown smooth out in his sleep. He looked so different without his cap on and Pyro wondered whether his hair felt as soft as it had looked earlier.

The last thing he thought blearily before falling asleep was whether Scout was a cuddler.

* * *

Morning broke bright and early. Having driven almost nonstop for a day, both Sniper and Scout were still passed out, but Pyro needed to piss and he managed to extricate himself from the tent without waking Scout. The air was cool and his breath fogged as he saw to his business a little way away. Spider webs in the tree branches were decorated with dew and he could hear songbirds singing the morning chorus high above. Having nothing better to do, Pyro changed into fresh clothes and gathered up materials to start a fire. He'd keep it small and smokeless so Sniper couldn't have a go at him for giving their position away, but it would bring him some company until the other two mercenaries woke.

Whilst the fire burned quietly and toasted some skewered slices of bread for him, Pyro set up the radio and checked the time. Might still be dark in the Badlands, but with breaking camp and all, he figured someone would answer.

"Badlands, this is RED One, over."

The line crackled with static for a moment before it picked up. The person on the other end seemed hesitant, uncertain of how to use it. Engineer and Demo must've both been asleep.

"Ah, RED One, this is M-Badlands, over."

Medic was the one who answered. He was having difficulty with the equipment and for some reason that made Pyro smile.

"Reading you clear, Badlands. Try holding the receiver a little closer to your mouth, Doc."

There was a muffled curse and some fumbling as he did so.

"Verzeihung. Engineer and Demo are both indisposed of. How is the scouting mission going, Herr Pyro?"

Pyro glanced around their small camp and leaned over to turn the bread before it could burn.

"Alright, I think. Both Scout and Sniper are still asleep, but everything seemed fine yesterday. We're gonna check the base out from a different angle later, I think."

"Good, good. Did Engineer tell you about-"

"The raccoons? Yeah, I got it. Haven't seen much wildlife other than squirrels though."

"Hmm. Be careful; something might've scared them off."

"Like what?"

"Probably yourselves, but I wouldn't worry. Sniper has both you and Scout in good hands."

"Uh, Medic?"

"Ja?"

"Is there anything about Sniper that...I should know about?"

The line crackled as Medic considered that. Pyro could hear him flipping through a file in the background.

"Like what?"

"Well, it's just that he snores so goddamn loud-"

Pyro startled as throaty laughter reached the other end of the radio, making the speaker ring in his ear.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry Pyro, I'm sure he's fine. Be worried if he suddenly _stops_ snoring like that, ja?"

"Hah. Ok. Thanks, Doc. Over."

"No problem, RED One. Over."

It was another hour and a half before Scout woke up, shivering in the still-chilly air. He stretched as he always did after waking and Pyro pointedly stared into the flames rather than at the golden body before him that looked so toned in the low morning sun. Scout did his handwraps as he sat in front of the fire, blinking.

"How long ya been up, Pyro?"

"A couple hours, maybe. Didn't want to go and shave or anything 'case you or Sniper thought I'd disappeared."

Truthfully, he hadn't wanted to leave in case he missed seeing Scout stretch. Damn, but he was good looking.

They exchanged small talk for a few minutes until the zip on Sniper's tent rattled and he got up to sort out coffee. After that, Pyro did bother to go and shave and when he got back, Sniper and Scout were both fully dressed and looking much more put together. The task for that morning was to survey the area, so they split up and fanned out to either side of the valley. Scout had thought Pyro would struggle to keep up, but he did with apparently little effort. They reached their agreed point on the map and waited for Sniper's torch flash to confirm the coast was clear.

Scout huffed and down a bottle of water before throwing one to Pyro.

"Heck, Pyro, ain't you hot yet?"

Pyro shrugged. He'd pushed up the sleeves of his grey hoodie and picked up his dreadlocks in a messy bun at the back of his head.

"Not really. It's so cold up here compared to Badlands."

"Yeah, 's nice actually. Just wish Sniper'd hurry up with the torch signal." he replied, scanning the other side of the valley with his binoculars. Pyro watched him and noted the faint beading of sweat on his temples before looking away.

"Why're we waiting for that, again?"

"'s just confirmation everythin's ok on his end. Helps us map the height of the valley as well, but you're s'posed to do it with lasers and stuff really."

It was fifteen minutes before Sniper's Morse code flash winked at them from across the valley. Pyro watched it and was confused when Scout sniggered.

"What's funny?"

"Huh? Oh, he's just moanin' that his back hurts. C'mon, let's press on and then we can let old man rest."

They pushed on through the forest, descending back down into the valley carefully in a zigzag path so they didn't slip.

"So...Was that Morse code or something?"

"Yep. What, cant'cha read it?"

"I know 'S.O.S' but that's it, really."

"Huh. Thought Administration taught it to everyone."

"Did they teach you?"

"Me? nah. I learned it off my brothers, but Engineer told me he'd got a few lessons in Morse before comin' to RED."

Pyro carefully dug his heels into the loose scree of the slope and steadied himself against a tree trunk. Scout went to take another swig from his water bottle, but doing so put him off balance and the loose earth gave way under his feet. With a curse, he flailed and tried to grab hold of something and oh, God, he was gonna fall down this fuckin' hill and _die_ -

Pyro reached out, quick as lightning, catching Scout's forearm before he went all the way over. They both stood there like that for a few seconds, chests heaving, before Pyro tugged Scout back to his feet and leaned back to give him some space.

"Holy shit, man, thanks."

Pyro grinned crookedly and rubbed the back of his neck.

"No problem."

As they went back down the valley, considerably more carefully this time, Pyro restrained a smile as he followed the man in front of him. He had the feeling that the next few days were going to be _great._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey guys! Thanks to everyone who's reading and leaving kudos, it all helps keep me motivated! And yes, the Pyro/Scout stuff is most definitely going to go beyond this.
> 
> But not just yet.
> 
> ~Leon


	5. The Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The first virtue in a soldier is endurance of fatigue; courage is only the second virtue."
> 
> ~Napoleon Bonaparte

** CHAPTER FOUR **

_ The Drive _

The next few days went by fairly quietly for both halves of the RED team. Medic's time was consumed almost entirely by inventory, and assisting Engineer in breaking camp and destroying any sensitive information they weren't going to take with them. For Pyro, the scouting mission became an unexpected vacation as he helped the other two mercenaries to map the valley and keep lookout for BLUs.

On the third morning since arriving at the base Scout had decided to call Landfall, Pyro was halfway up one of the enormous pine trees littering the valley, looking across the horizon for signs of smoke or BLU activity. Nothing so far. The air up there was breezy and crisp with the tang of pine resin. He heard footsteps approaching below and leaned down from his perch to see Scout cup his hands and call up to him:

"What the hell're you doin' up there, Py?"

Pyro's heart still leapt a little at that nickname. Him and Scout had hit it off surprisingly quickly, now that they had to sleep in the same tent at night. And Scout was most definitely a cuddler.

Pyro didn't have a problem with that.

"Looking for smoke. Or BLUs. Figured the two'd probably come together."

"Cool. See anythin'?"

"Not yet."

"Well, when you're done doin' whatever, Sniper wanted some help pitching the tents and y'know I'm all thumbs there."

Afforded privacy by the height of the tree, Pyro smiled at the sheepish tone in Scout's voice before wrapping his arms around the tree branch he'd been sitting on and swinging his legs down to the one below it. Carefully but fluidly, Pyro made his way down to the ground. Scout glanced away when Pyro's hoodie rode up, flashing his lean abdomen and the faint trail of hair that led down from his belly button. There was more unpigmented skin streaked across his body like stripes of war paint. Scout wondered if those pale patches of skin continued down past the waistband of Pyro's pants like they looked like they did.

He was startled from that thought by Pyro dropping down gently to the needle-carpeted floor beside him, smoothing down his hoodie absently. There were faint burn marks on the edges of the sleeves, little black streaks and ragged edges. Pyro's hands were roughened with calluses and knotted burn scars that got fainter and fainter as they went up his arms. It looked as though he'd held lava in his bare hands, or rinsed them with burning acid. Maybe he had, for all Scout knew. As they walked back to their meagre camp, Scout realised he knew nothing about Pyro; all of his scars were hollow marks to him. Maybe someday he'd ask Pyro about them.

But not today.

Sniper decided the next day that they could investigate the base proper and descend into the deepest part of the valley. They approached on foot, fully armed and silent as ghosts. They moved through the rooms of Landfall quietly, pointing gun muzzles into each room before murmuring to each other "clear." Pyro was cool and collected and didn't struggle at all to understand Scout's complex hand-signals. The BLU base was still empty, but they spent as little time in there as they could. It felt too much like intruding otherwise. After several tense hours, Sniper relaxed and dropped his scope from his eye.

"Ok. All clear for now. Go and raise Engineer on the radio, Pyro. The sooner we get the other guys up here, the better."

Pyro nodded and quickly set up the equipment on the table beside the door. Signal was weaker down in the base of the valley, but after some fiddling, he got the right frequency.

"Badlands, this is RED One, over"

Nothing.

"Badlands, this is RED One, calling again, over."

The receiver finally picked up.

"Roger, RED One, this is Badlands, over."

Demo didn't struggle the same way as Medic did with the radio.

"Badlands, please be advised that base is deemed habitable. Join up with the scouting party ASAP, over."

"Will do, RED One. I'll message you again once the convoy's movin'. Over."

Pyro set down the receiver and gave the news to Sniper and Scout. With any luck, the rest of the team would be there by tomorrow. Sniper headed down to the control room of the RED base to turn on the power. It was dusty and dark down there and Pyro didn't feel like doing it himself-at least Demo had given him a great excuse to stay next to the radio.

Scout shivered in the cold air from the door. He glanced up as the fluorescent bulbs overhead flickered into life and the distant hum of the heating system went on.

"Finally! No more sleepin' in tents tonight!"

"Yeah. I can finally have a whole mattress to myself."

Scout looked sheepish.

"Uh...Sorry I was an asshole and didn't share the air bed with you. I bet your back's hurting like hell now, right?"

Pyro wanted to say that it didn't, that Scout was plenty soft and warm enough to make up for an airbed. Instead, he said:

"Nah, it's not that bad. Thanks for apologising though, asshole!"

The RED base rang with laughter as Pyro dodged the balled up gloves thrown at him. In the quiet of the forest, the laughter of two young men could be heard. Sniper, scanning the fuse boxes with a torch tucked against his shoulder, smiled as he flicked on switches.

It was nice to hear laughter like that now and again. It reminded them all that, for a few moments at least, they could be young and carefree again and forget about the fact that they had nightmares every other night. For a while, the forest was just that: a forest. He wished the other guys got to see it that way before work started again.

Sunlight poured down through the canopy and warmed the wooden catwalks. Birds flocked in the trees.

It was a nice place, Sniper thought.

Shame they were there to kill people though.

* * *

The vehicles were finally all loaded up, including Spy's red Ferrari and Sniper's beat-up camper. Engineer had been entrusted with the task of driving that. The rest of the convoy was comprised of the three pickups, an old ambulance Medic had been fixing up just in case and several over-filled trailers. It was surprising how much crap they had to cart around between bases not including all their weaponry, which was packed into one large shipping container and handled privately by Administration. Odd ends of furniture, crockery, clothes, the entirety of Medic's inventory, Demo's highly sensitive chemicals and, of course, personal items such as dove cages (filled with one ruffled-looking dove each), an anonymous basket of knitting wool, Red Sox memorabilia and several large and purportedly expensive oil paintings, amongst other things. The popcorn machine, sadly, had to be left behind.

It wasn't the first time they'd moved base, but Medic was still smugly pleased with his orchestration of the affair. Over time, he'd streamlined the process with innumerable check-lists, time tables and duty rosters. In the end, the most difficult thing was making sure everyone was happy with how everything was packed. It was like those puzzles Medic had been fond of as a child, where one had to find a way of transporting wolves and chicks across a river without any animals being killed or left behind. _Only one wolf per two chicks-wolves and chicks can travel in same-species pairs, animals can't be left on the riverbank alone_.

With their belongings, it was much the same. Spy wouldn't have his oil paintings in the same trailer as Demo's chemicals; Scout wouldn't allow his sports merchandise to be packed beside Medic's doves. The knitting materials and crockery had to be kept together because there hadn't been enough newspaper to wrap everything delicate up in.

The resulting elephant-train of vehicles was odd to look at, but it had all come together in the end. Last minute checks were made on tyre pressure and the map routes were checked and double checked because Scout wasn't there to tell them which road was which. From the end of the convoy, lined up beside the road, Medic called for Demo with a piercing whistle and shouted to him to get on the radio. It had been crammed into the cab of one of the pickups so it was within easy reach and as Demo clipped his seatbelt, he picked up the speaker and tried to get hold of Pyro.

"RED One, this is Badlands, over."

Pyro picked up the receiver a moment later, sounding flustered. Demo could hear Scout's muffled laughter in the background.

"This is RED One, Badlands, over."

"RED One, be advised, eagle is flying the nest." that had been Soldier's idea. Gotta use codewords, he said. BLU might have been listening. Demo heard Pyro cover the speaker with his hand and mutter to Scout what the hell he was talking about. Scout explained and Pyro returned to the radio.

"Roger Badlands. Confirm coordinates."

"Uh, Echo Bravo Alpha, Tango Foxtrot two."

Scout, having his own elaborate system of encrypted grid references, looked that up quickly on the maps that had been spread out on the table at Landfall. He took over the radio from Pyro;

"Coordinates good, Badlands. Commence mission when ready."

"Roger, RED One. ETA, 23 hours and 35 minutes."

Demo hung up the receiver and leaned out of the window of the pickup. Medic, seeing this, braced for the ear-splitting bellow that followed.

"ALRIGHT LADS, 'S TIME TO MOVE OUT!"

Spy, in the driver's seat of his Ferrari, shook his head and obediently started the engine. The roar of the Ferrari had grins spreading on the faces of Demo and Soldier, whose pickups were near the front of the convoy. Medic's ambulance came next, with Sniper's van bringing up the rear.

They pulled out onto the dusty road and after some obligatory walkie-talkie checks, they began the long journey to Landfall.

* * *

They had to stop after five hours of driving to eat and stretch their legs. Engineer took the opportunity to change one of the tyres on a trailer, just in case. If it was possible, it was somehow hotter on the open road than at Badlands, and that was saying something. He sat in the cab of the ambulance with the air con on full and the doors open, trying to get some air circulating. Soldier marched up to the open door, carrying water bottles. At some point in time, he'd decided to take off his shirt and shoes as was going about barefoot and bare chest. Medic figured that probably wasn't such a bad idea, but the ambulance looked strange enough in their hodgepodge convoy. He figured it'd only be worse if he followed Soldier's lead.

"Drink up, Doctor. We're still a long way away from the front lines."

Medic sighed and pushed back the locks of hair that were sticking limply to his forehead. Heat rolled in oppressive waves over the land and he was concerned about some of them developing heatstroke; Spy and Heavy in particular. Hot weather wasn't especially kind to them and he'd been unable to convince Spy to ditch the ski mask. He decided to go after him again in a minute whilst the Ferrari wasn't able to tear ahead. First, though, water.

"Danke, Soldier. Have you been getting enough to drink?"

"Yessir. I've had three already."

Medic rolled his eyes heavenwards an allowed a few gulps of ice cold water to push back the beginnings of a headache. It made his teeth ache and gave him stomach cramps because it was so cold, but he was too thirsty to care.

"Excellent. Make sure you don't drink any more or we'll have to stop again."

He was pretty sure Soldier missed the sarcastic tone in his voice, but having to piss was a better problem to have than passing out from dehydration. He went to chide Soldier again a little more firmly, but he had already moved off to stock the campervan with water whilst Engineer finished changing the trailer tyre. He satisfied himself with stepping out of the ambulance and closing the door to try and build up some cold air in the cab.

"Soldier! If you insist on going shirtless, make sure you're putting on sun screen! I am _not_ going to be digging out the last of the burn supplies for the sake of your skin!"

Soldier acknowledged (read: ignored) that with a nonchalant wave of hand. Medic scowled and took his water bottled with him, splashing a little behind his neck as he walked to the Ferrari. Even in the fierce heat, Spy was still smoking religiously. The skeins of pale smoke he rhythmically exhaled shivered in time with the quavering horizon. Medic wondered absently if it was possible for the tarmac to get hot enough to melt their tyres. Spy had at least had the sense to ditch his suit jacket and roll up his shirt sleeves. His usual leather gloves had been switched for something cut closer to his palms; fingerless driving gloves.

Spy acknowledged Medic with a dip of his head before returning his gaze to the horizon. Birds circled high up above and small lizards skittered around in the dry brush beside the road. Spy finished his cigarette and expertly flicked the end at one which had up until then been lying half on the edge of the blacktop. Medic frowned and had another sip of water. Already it was starting to warm up.

"I hope you had put that out, Spy. The last thing we need to be doing is leaving bush fires behind us."

"Of course it was out. I doubt you came here to shout at me for having flicked my cigarette ends around, though."

"Tempting as that is, no. I still think that mask should come off, at least until we're out of the desert."

"Non."

"Spy, if you continue like this, you're going to get heatstroke."

Spy shrugged and sniffed delicately. The dry air made his lips chap and he didn't like it.

"Fine."

"Be warned, if that does happen, I'm going to have to take it off anyway to get a cold cloth to your head."

Spy made a face at that and Medic saw an opening. He tried to pitch his voice accordingly;

"Surely it is your name which needs protecting, not your face, hm?"

"...Very well. But I will only take it off once we are driving again. How long until we reach the first town?"

"Another two hours at least."

"Two hours until CCTV, then. You may consider your campaign against my anonymity successful, Docteur."

Engineer approached at that moment, goggles swapped for bulky black sunglasses.

"Trailer tyre's repaired, folks. We can be back on the road anytime."

"Thank you, Dell. Soldier has left water for you in Sniper's van."

Spy by now had returned to the Ferrari and when he heard Engineer say they could get going again, he revved the engine. Medic, from where he was standing right next to the front of it, startled slightly and scowled deeply at Engineer's low chuckle. Whilst the Ferrari continued to purr impatiently, Soldier jogged back to his pick up and started the engine, pulling back out onto the road carefully so as not to jolt the trailer too much. By now, the cab of the ambulance had cooled significantly and Medic sighed with relief as he settled back into the driver's seat. It was like sitting inside a fridge.

Demo's voice crackled over the walkie talkies and after a lead off from Spy in the Ferrari, they were quickly back to cruising at 50 miles an hour. The ambulance wasn't made for long journeys, but the engine had never been running as clean was when it had been left in Engineer's care. Sure, the seats were a little stained in places, and the smell of antiseptic never really cleared out of the cab (no matter how many of those little tree shaped air fresheners Medic hung in there) but he didn't mind. He'd come to be as fond of the old vehicle as Spy was of his Ferrari and whilst it'd win no races nor beauty contests, it was equipped to handle cardiac arrest, dismemberment and spinal injuries. That made up for the beauty spots on the seats by a long shot.

They drove for a few more hours, eating as they went along, stopping again when the sun set on the borders of a small, nondescript town. Spy vanished as soon as they parked up, in search of somewhere to buy cigarettes no doubt and Medic was helping Heavy to contest  with full on heat stroke. It'd taken some doing, but they managed to persuade their way into a seedy looking motel and managed to stretch the giant out on the hard bed in an air conditioned room. Medic wanted to sleep and eat something that wasn't a trail bar or bag of potato chips, but they didn't have respawn out here and if things got much worse, they'd have to get Heavy into hospital.

Needless to say, that wasn't a good thing.

Demo patiently fetched supplies from the ambulance for Medic for about an hour until it was decided all that could be done now was wait and change Heavy's IV drip when it ran low. Demo returned to the cab of his pickup and had a few grateful slugs from his hip flask. He nearly dropped it when the radio suddenly crackled and Pyro's fearful voice came over the airwaves;

"Uh, Badlands, this is RED One, we have a situation, over."

Demo frowned as he picked up the receiver, trying to make his voice sound soothing.

"RED One, this is Badlands. What's the problem?"

"Oh, God, I don't even know, it's Sniper, he's gotten sick all of a sudden, I don't know what to do-"

"Alright, lad, I need you to calm down, yeah? You can't help Sniper if you've got your knickers in a twist."

He waited until he heard Pyro take several deep breaths before returning to the radio.

"Ok, sorry. Scout's with him now, but neither of us know what to do."

"Alright. Tell me, slowly, what's happened."

"Well, uh, things got weird this morning. When Sniper got up, he looked like he was in loads of pain, but he wouldn't say why. When he went to go and take a leak, we could hear him sounding like he'd been shot or something. A couple hours later he turned really pale and started being sick."

"Does he have a fever, lad?"

"I-Id don't think so."

"Right. Ok. I'm going to put you on with Medic, alright, lad? Just stay put and hold on."

He left the receiver crackling as he jogged across the car park and barged into Heavy's room. Medic looked up, bleary eyed and irate.

"For Gott's sake, Demo, what is it now?"

"It's Sniper," Demo panted from the doorway, "Pyro says something's wrong with him."

Medic frowned and quickly replaced the cold cloth resting on Heavy's forehead before striding out to the radio in the pickup. He was better at handling the transmissions now, and he was glad of it.

"Pyro, this is Medic. Tell me everything you told Demo."

And he did. As Pyro shakily relayed the events of the day, Medic crossed possible things off of his list. Eventually, he said to Pyro;

"Well, it can't be anything waterborne. I'm going to need you to check his ankles."

"Wait, what?"

"Just do it, Pyro. Come back and tell me what they look like."

Pyro hung up and Demo shuffled in the open doorway of the pickup.

"Why'd you need to look at his ankles?"

Medic sighed heavily and jostled his glasses as he rubbed a hand over his face.

"It's a certain symptom of something Sniper suffers from, and though I can't think of why he should have an attack now, I need to know if that's what's happening."

The radio crackled again and Medic seized the receiver.

"Uh, Doc, I don't know what's going on but-"

"Just tell me what you saw, Pyro."

"Well...His ankles? They were all swollen up and puffy, like."

"Did he complain when you touched them?"

"Yeah. I got an icepack for Scout's eye though, and we tied Sniper down to the bed after."

Medic sighed again and looked for words to explain this to Pyro.

"I see. Pyro, I believe from what you've told me that Sniper is suffering from ARF, or acute renal failure. It's a condition of the kidneys and he's had it for about a year now."

"Is he gonna be ok?"

"Yes, but only if you do exactly what I say."

"Ok, tell me."

"I need you to try and find a small bottle of pills. It might be in the first aid kits, but Sniper might've moved it to either his tent or the rover. It has a yellow label and a spiral embossed on the cap. Tell me if you can or cannot find it."

"Will do."

Pyro hung up and Demo stepped aside as Medic clambered out of the car before throwing open the doors of the ambulance and digging through the supplies there.

"Are you worried Sniper's been taking something he shouldn't 'a been?"

"I'm worried he's _not_ been taking something he should have been. He's supposed to be on medication to control the condition, but if he's not got it with him, he'd deteriorate after only a few days."

Medic knew his ambulance inside and out, and Sniper's pills weren't in there. He sat back against the gurney in the back of the ambulance and scoured his bran for any memory of where the damn things got put. Had they run out? No, because he remembered checking them off on the inventory list, and seeing them-

He sat up in an instant and caused Demo to startle.

"Hurensohn" he said flatly before jumping out of the back and wrenching open the door to the cab. He kept muttering to himself in German as he rifled through the glove locker, then the pockets in the sides of the door and-

"There you are."

Somehow, Sniper's medication had ended up being stowed in the ambulance, and not packed into the first aid kits the scouting party took with them. That was a very bad thing.

The air was thick with tension as Medic got out of the cab of the ambulance and studied the label on the pill bottle. Demo stood nearby, worried, but attentive. Medic carefully considered all of his options. Heavy would probably be fine, but they couldn't get moving again until he was. He could talk Pyro through what he needed to do, but they'd only be buying time until Sniper got the meds.

"Demo, ask Pyro if they have the respawn on yet."

"Heck, Doc, y'think he's gonna die from this?"

"He will if we don't get there in time! Now get on the gottverdammt radio and ask Pyro if the respawn is on!"

If Demo was hurt by the way Medic snapped angrily at him, he didn't show it. Whilst Demo spoke on the radio, Medic returned to the motel and knocked impatiently on Engineer's door. The Texan greeted him with sleepy eyes and five o'clock shadow-he'd probably just been about to go to sleep.

"Would it be possible to talk someone through how to build a teleporter?"

Medic watched as Engineer tried and failed to process that information. The harsh light of the hallway lights highlighted the purple stains under their eyes and Engineer registered after a moment that Medic was getting very close to losing his temper. He had that tooth-grinding look about him that all men of science got when their calculations wouldn't play fair, or their lab equipment blew up. Engineer knew because he'd seen that look on his own face before. Medic's clothes were rumpled and sweat-stained and dark stubble was coming up along his jaw. Behind his glasses, his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. He tried to rouse himself and spoke quietly to try and placate Medic before he really lost it.

"Maybe, Doc. Why?"

"Sniper has fallen terribly ill and Pyro and Scout are struggling to deal with him."

"Can't he last until we get there?"

They both turned then as Demo padded into the hallway. He folded his hands helplessly and said tensely;

"Pyro tells me they got respawn on, but the data files they need to load themselves up into the system haven't arrived from Administration yet."

"But the emergency catchment is on, right?" Engineer butted in, now fully awake. They all easily forgot the fact that their immortality wasn't permanent, and it was a slap in the face when death wasn't just a number on the leader board anymore.

"Aye, but we do not wanna have Sniper getting stuck in that for any more than a few minutes."

Engineer swallowed uneasily. The emergency respawn system was a barebones arrangement; it'd save a man from dying, but it'd do more harm than good in the long run. It was essentially a holding pattern for the fallen person's data until the system could be cycled fully and revive them. As part of their orientation, Administration had made them go through the emergency catchment and Engineer knew there was no worse experience than being trapped in that timeless, lightless limbo, feeling your nerves burn up in waves as the system tried and failed to revive you in full. He'd been told he'd only been in there ten minutes, but it had felt like an eternity.

If Sniper ended up in there for more than that, he'd probably go mad.

He was snapped out of his memories of that experience when Medic turned to him and asked again.

"So, Engineer, can it be done?"

He thought more carefully and schooled his expression.

"If it was you on the other end of the radio, maybe. But Scout and Pyro? No way. Those boys probably haven't even passed high school algebra."

Medic turned and slammed a fist into the doorframe. His chest was heaving and Engineer met Demo's anxious look before he spoke again.

"Look, Doc, they've got you on the radio. Sniper'll be fine so long as we hustle. Is Spy back yet?"

"Oui" he said from the doorway to the parking lot, having just come up the steps with new cigarettes in his pockets. From his expression, all three of them knew he hadn't been listening on anything. Engineer watched as Spy's expression cycled through confusion at Medic's obvious stress to carefully guarded curiosity.

"Was there something you needed me for?" he said eventually. Medic turned and pushed a hand through his hair.

"Ja.  I need the Ferrari."

"Mon Dieu, what for?" Spy hissed back, offended at the idea of anyone or anything being inside that car aside from himself.

"Sniper. Something bad has happened and I need to get to the new base as fast as possible."

"Can't you just teleport over?"

"The boys can't build somethin' like that on their own, spook. You're gonna have to drive." Engineer added.

Spy looked between the three of the carefully, before inclining his head towards Heavy's door.

"What about Heavy? Does he not need you here?"

"Engineer knows how to deal with heatstroke. He will be fine."

Spy nodded and turned back to Medic.

"Very well. Bring everything you need and we can leave as soon as you are ready."

Medic nodded and failed to excuse himself as he would normally have done as he returned to the ambulance, stuffing bags with IV drips, shots of adrenaline and morphine, catheters and all manner of other things. The kidney medication he kept tucked under his belt so he couldn't possibly mislay it again. The earlier anger had given way to knotting worry now, and more than a little shame. Because of one wrongly ticked box somewhere, one mispacked bag, Sniper was in very real danger of death and the horrendous grasp of emergency catchment respawn.

God, when had he become so careless?

There was a final radio check mad between the Ferrari and Demo's pickup and Medic versed Engineer once then twice on what to do for Heavy before he was forcibly evicted from the room and all but shoved into the waiting seat in the car.

Medic felt as though he should be enjoying the ride more than he was; Spy was fiercely protective of his car and no one aside from one very lucky Boston beauty had ever seen the inside of it. Still, Medic was numb to the feeling of the plush leather seats and smooth transitions between gears as Spy allowed the engine free reign and blew through every speed limit where he could away with it.

Engineer had estimated that even with their shortcut route pre-planned by Scout and essentially double cruising speed, they still wouldn't get to Sniper till morning. Medic roused himself once they were driving and got one the radio again.

"RED One, this is Badlands, over."

"Roger Badlands. Please tell me you're gettin' here real soon." Scout sounded sick with dread.

"Ja, me and Spy are coming in the Ferrari. We will get there as soon as we can."

"Jesus Christ, hurry up. He won't stop bein' sick an-wait, Pyro did tell ya everythin', right?"

"Yes, yes. Now, whichever one of you is free, I need you to look in the green first aid kit and look for an IV drip-"

"What's that?"

"Ach mein Gott" Medic muttered before returning to the receiver. "It's like a big, clear bag. Full of water. Should say 'Saline Fluids' on the side"

There was some scuffling and grunting from Scout as he stretched for the bag, then more rustling as he looked through it. Pyro could be heard in the background murmuring softly, soothingly, trying to get either himself or Sniper to calm down. Probably both.

"Yeah, ok, I got it."

"Good. Now, where have you got Sniper?"

"In one of the bunks next to the window."

"Find some way of getting the IV drip up above his head. Hang it on the bed post if you have to."

And such the conversation went on as Medic instructed Scout on how to purge air from the drip tube, raise a vein in Sniper's arm and insert the needle without giving him an embolism. Mercifully, from what he could tell, everything went smoothly aside from a toe being stubbed on the side of the bunk.

"Is everything working?"

"Yeah, Doc, looks like it. What do we do now?"

"Wait until we arrive. Change the drip when it runs out, sleep in shifts if you need to. Make sure one of you is with him at all times, and make sure he keeps his head tilted to the side so he doesn't choke on his vomit. If he comes to, try and get him to urinate, even if he has to wet the bed. If waste backs up in his body, it could poison his blood."

"Yeah, ok. Ok." a pause. "He's gonna be fine right?"

Medic's stomach knotted and he turned to the side to hide the uncomfortable expression that crossed his face.

"Yes, Scout, he will be fine" the lie came easily. "And make sure the both of you take care of yourselves. Remember to eat and drink, try not to get into a state where all three of you are laid up in bed. We'll be there soon."

Scout hung up and that was the end of it. Medic felt so helpless, he had done everything possible from his end, and yet everything was falling apart.

In Landfall, there was one very sick man and two scared boys practically out of high school, probably struggling to keep their voices even and being strung out on adrenaline. For all any of them knew, the BLU team could be preparing to strike at their moment of weakness right then. On the road behind them, Demo, Engineer and Soldier were tasked with looking after Heavy, who probably wouldn't have got heat stroke if Medic had bothered to raise his voice a little earlier in the day. The convoy was in shambles. They'd all be arriving in bits and pieces, depending on whether Heavy bounced back quickly or not.

And all because of some damn bottle of pills he'd forgotten about.

Medic's sigh filled the streamlined interior of the Ferrari and he permitted himself to slump back in the low slung seat, his head falling back with a soft thump. Spy didn't take his eyes off the road.

"It's not your fault" he said quietly.

"Oh, but it is" Medic replied tiredly. All his anger and stress had left him now and shame was what sustained him to stay awake and replay in his mind over and over how he'd sort this mess out at Landfall.

"How so?"

"If I had been more careful with the inventory, the first aid kits, hölle, even Sniper's own packing, this would never have happened." 

"It is his medication, surely he is to blame for having forgotten about it?"

"That wouldn't have mattered, if I had done my job and reminded him to keep taking it."

Spy couldn't disagree with that and they drove in silence for a while. The smooth hiss of the tyres on the road steadily began to lull him into a tense half-sleep until Spy reached over and turned on the radio. Quiet classical music coloured the air, interspersed with a woman making comments or announcements in French, and Medic found that so soothing he dropped fully into sleep. The idea that he was not the only one who missed his mother tongue, the simple sound of someone speaking his own language, was comforting.

As he drifted away, he heard Spy humming softly to the music and slept deeply and evenly for another two hours until Spy woke him to drive.

They were getting out of the desert now and after ten minutes to stretch their legs and sip water, Medic was ready to take over. Spy showed him how to change the radio station and after fiddling for a moment, Medic managed to tune into a station broadcasting out of Ohio. He had come across it before when skipping channels in the Infirmary and whilst the music was never to his taste, the German was good enough. The signal was weak and it crackled now and again, but the sounds filled the car comfortably as Medic cautiously pulled back out onto the open road.

"Oh, Docteur?"

"Ja?"

"Put a single scratch on this and I will strangle you myself."

Despite himself, Medic laughed softly at that and without another word, Spy settled back and closed his eyes, falling asleep with an ease that made Medic jealous. Then again, the rocking rhythm of a car in motion was the only universal sleeping aid Medic had ever heard of.

He didn't push the Ferrari quite as hard as Spy did, but it still ate up the miles easily and was only half way down to an empty tank. He felt privileged that Spy was letting him drive, but realised it was probably only out of necessity. The man would probably have an aneurysm if someone accused him of doing something out of generosity.

As he drove, radio burbling quietly, he thought about the BLU Medic. Did he forget to tell his patients to take their meds? Did he spend hours in front of the mirror, trying to decide which was parting his hair looked best? Did he play the violin as well, or did he play a different instrument? Did he play at all?

Medic supposed that what he really wanted to know was how different he was from his counterpart. They looked like carbon copies of each other, maybe they acted like it as well.

They hadn't passed a mish-mash convoy of vehicles on their way however, and a blue Ferrari wasn't currently competing with him for rights to the road. Hell, after the stunt their Medic had pulled at Badlands, he probably got to fly in a private jet to Landfall.

Oh, wouldn't that have been nice?

Spy woke up a little bit before Medic had to stop for gas. It was certainly an odd scene; a spotless sports car rolling up to this station in the middle of nowhere, neither of the men inside it looking like they'd washed or slept in about two days, and one of them wearing a ski mask.

If the teenage girl behind the counter wanted to say something, she quickly swallowed it when Medic tiredly pushed a couple of hundred dollar bills her way and asked her not to say anything.

When he went back outside, Spy had moved the car out of the station forecourt and was stooped awkwardly in front of one of the wing mirrors.

"What...Are you doing?"

"Shaving." Spy replied simply, as if he did this sort of thing all the time.

Medic scowled and looked back along the road. Desolate and empty, just like the road ahead. Aside from the stark white light coming from the gas station behind them, and the dimly lit interior of the Ferrari, it was pitch black. Stars winked silently overhead. The night air was cold and Medic shivered-Spy had had the sense to keep a pea coat folded up in his car for when it got cold, but Medic was still enjoying rolled up shirtsleeves and a loosened tie from the pit stop when they were changing the trailer tyre. Already that felt like a lifetime ago. He popped the top of one of the bottles of coke he'd bought at the station and sipped thoughtfully.

When he'd been younger, and the most he knew about medicine was that a particular brown bottle in the bathroom cabinet had something in it that made coughs go away, he'd fantasised about living some dramatic and interesting life overseas. He'd give lectures on a thousand different subjects all across the world; fly in planes beside millionaires; drink champagne out of a chipped porcelain mug beside a woman he married in Las Vegas for the hell of it.

He hadn't expected that that childhood dream would come true, or that it would come in the shape of racing to another man's aid in a bright red Ferrari with a bottle of expensive medication tucked in his belt. The surreality of it made him snort with laughter, and his nose burned as the mouthful of coke he had been trying to swallow attempted to exit out of his nostrils. Spy stood up from the wing mirror, half of his face still coated with shaving foam. That made Medic laugh even harder and coke slopped out of the bottle onto the dry ground.

"Do I even want to know?" Spy muttered before returning to the wing mirror.

Medic didn't even bother to hide the crazy, deep-chest laughter that came out of him. It wasn't the same kind of laugh that came out of someone asking for a second opinion, or the delight of stitching something mysterious into another's body. This was genuine, hysteric laughter and damn it all, he deserved to indulge for once.

Everything was going to shit and someone was probably going to die in the next few hours, but he had a cold coke, a reluctant road trip companion and unlimited access to a really sexy car.

Hell, what was there to do other than laugh?

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: In the scale of things, a lot of what went down in this chapter was unexpected for me. It was, however, the only way I could find to advance the plot and do so without missing out on the chance for character development.
> 
> Also, this is the longest chapter so far! Yay!
> 
> ~Leon


	6. A New Page

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't dwell on what went wrong. Instead, focus on what to do next. Spend your energies on moving forward toward finding the answer."  
> ~ Denis Waitley

** Chapter Five **

_ A New Page _

Pyro grimaced as Sniper's face contorted in an expression of pain. He'd been flittering in and out of consciousness for hours now and every time they radioed Medic, he told them to just carry on with what they were doing. He had expected Scout to just vanish and clean his hands of this whole mess, but after Medic's initial advice, he had become resolute and between him and Pyro, they were doing everything they could.

Scout had looked so determined in spite of his fear as he had followed Medic's instructions on setting Sniper up on the drip and Pyro kept meticulous record of his pulse, temperature and how many times he was sick. As the hours dragged on and night deepened outside, he felt weariness settle in his bones, but also brief flickers of hope. He had the feeling that somehow they were all going to muddle their way through this.

Pyro looked up from his post beside Sniper's bed when Scout returned with the cleaned-out bucket they'd been using as a puke bucket. A pad of gauze had been messily taped over his black eye and he held a bag of dripping ice to his face as he entered the room. He wordlessly pressed another trail bar into Pyro's hand, ignoring his yawn as he did so.

"C'mon, man, Doc said we gotta eat."

"Fine. It stinks in here though."

In spite of the windows they'd quickly thrown open, the small bunkroom already smelt of stale sweat and vomit. Shivering under the bedcovers, Sniper was blissfully unaware. Pale as a sheet and shuddering, but unaware.

Lucky bastard.

"Ok, ok, I'm done." Pyro said around a mouthful of granola, "how are we doing for drips?"

"We've only got one more bag and he's already halfway through the one we've got him set up on right now."

"How long till Medic gets here?" that was all Pyro seemed to be saying recently. Thanks for the water, where's Medic? Dude, I need another towel, and when's Medic getting here?

Scout shared his friend's concern. Medic could probably tell if Sniper was getting worse or better, but to them, he just seemed to stay the same pasty mess hour after hour. At least he didn't seem close to needing respawn yet, though. Outside, crickets chirped and birds called softly in the dusk. Pyro grimaced and felt his back twinge, but he ignored it and wiped another cool, damp cloth over Sniper's skin.

"Dude, do you need a minute?"

"What? Huh, no, I'll be fine-"

"Don't fuckin' lie," Scout replied flatly, causing Pyro to blink in surprise. He got up and grabbed hold of the back of Pyro's chair, gently but insistently tipping it forwards so Pyro had no choice to get awkwardly to his feet. His legs complained at the sudden use.

"C'mon, I think I can hold fort for ten minutes whilst you get some air."

"Thanks man" Pyro mumbled incoherently, yawning again as he staggered out of the room and onto the tightly-packed earth outside. The contrast between the humid, nasty bunkroom and the cool, loamy night air was stark. He blew out a deep breath and watched it fog in the floodlights as he felt his sweat cooling on his skin. He checked his watch.

1:05 AM.

God. He'd been up for nearly seventeen hours straight, and Scout wasn't much better. Neither of them wanted to sleep though, so they were running on caffeine pills and Bonk! until such time as the Ferrari finally arrived. Pyro felt quite alone just then; Landfall was situated high up in the mountains, half way around the world from the little Hackney suburb he'd been raised in. He'd have given anything right then to just open his eyes and wake up in his childhood room, hear his mother listening to BBC Radio One downstairs and the sounds of London waking up outside. His window had faced the sunrise then, and he could lean right out of it to observe sloppily-dressed neighbours coming and going from the little corner shop across the street. Cranes had stalked along the city skyline like stick insects and Pyro remembered that when he was very young, he had used to name them each and greet them in the morning. England was a whole lot colder and damper than most of the places he'd been with RED, but he still missed it sometimes.

But then he heard the radio crackle inside, so he drew one last breath of refreshing air before ducking back inside and lifting the receiver.

"This is RED One, over."

"How're you doing?"

"Oh, hey Doc. Yeah, I think we'll be ok. We're nearly out of Bonk! though, so you better tell me you're just down the road."

"Spy thinks we're about an hour away, but we can't drive so fast along the switchback roads. Have you got him to go yet?"

Pyro grimaced and pressed the receiver button again.

"No. I don't think he's being sick so much though."

There was scuffling on the other end of the radio and Pyro could hear Medic cursing under his breath.

"Keep trying. I don't think I can talk you through inserting a catheter, though."

"Ok. Oh, and Doc?"

"Ja?"

"Hurry up already."

Pyro hung up the receiver and sighed as he re-entered the bunk room. Scout looked up with tired eyes and fatigue weighing his limbs.

"They're about an hour away. Doc says we gotta keep trying to get him to piss."

"Fuckin' hell, what did this old fuck do to himself." Scout muttered as he stood from the chair and fiddled with the IV drip.

Pyro was sharing his sentiment of tired impatience, but he could hear concern in the other man's voice. He reached up and patted Scout's shoulder gently, knowing that it was still a hollow comfort.

"Hey, we can do this."

Scout smiled weakly.

"One more hour for the Determined Duo?"

"Hell yeah. Now help me roll him over so he's not lying on his arm for too long."

* * *

The Ferrari tore into the RED Base at some time in the early hours of morning. When Medic burst into the bunkroom, first aid kit on hand, both Pyro and Scout were dead on their feet. He chased them out of the room and ordered them to bed before setting to work. Spy found them not ten minutes later passed out on the couch, Scout's head lolling on Pyro's shoulder. He decided not to say anything about it later when the sun was up. They pretended it had never happened

He had been worried about their capabilities, but with what they had, they'd done remarkably well. With cramped hands, Medic managed to set Sniper up on a catheter. He watched with dread as first one bag, then two filled with amber urine.

Another hour or so and Sniper probably would've got blood poisoning.

There was nothing more to do now than replenish the drip, ensure the catheter was secure and wait.

* * *

The early sunrise struck through the open windows brightly, falling in a blazing square across Sniper's face. He groaned and tried to sit up, falling back down with a quiet huff as his arms gave out underneath him. He felt weak as a kitten, and drained of all his energy.

He gradually allowed himself to wake up, working the aches of stiffness from his limbs as best he could. He felt something very strange under the sheets and with puzzlement followed the narrow tube out of his boxers to a half-full bag clipped to the side of the bed. He was increasingly aware of something snaking up inside him, sitting cool and firm somewhere at the base of his manhood. Needless to say, it was an unpleasant and unwelcome sensation

"What the hell..."

He startled when there was a soft knock on the doorframe. Pyro stood in the doorway, dishevelled and sleepy, with two mugs of tea in his hands. Sniper squinted in the bright light as Pyro quietly sat down on the edge of the bed and put one of the mugs down on the bedside table.

"Morning."

"Ugh."

"Yeah, me too."

Pyro studied Sniper's face as he blinked rapidly, trying to convince himself to wake up. It was then that he seemed to notice the third man in the room, sleeping soundly in the chair beside the bed.

"Jesus Christ, how long was I out?"

"About fourteen hours. Medic and Spy arrived at about two in the morning."

Sniper seemed genuinely surprised that Medic was there and the rest of the team weren't. They both watched Medic sleeping, his chest rising and falling steadily. Papers surrounded him on the floor, presumably having fallen out of the file he held in his hand. His back would probably hurt really badly later by the way he was slumped with one arm over the back of the chair, but Pyro hadn't the heart to disturb him. Out of all of them, he was probably the one who deserved to sleep the most.

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"You guys came all the way up just for me?"

Sniper's voice was hoarse and quiet. Pyro sipped his tea and smiled gently over the edge of the cup. Sniper was still looking at Medic with disbelief.

"Not everyone. Demo, Solly and Engineer had to stay behind to look after Heavy. Spy and Medic tore up here in the Ferrari as soon as we radioed them about what happened to you."

"What...What did happen?"

"You'll have to ask Doc for all the details when he finally comes round. From what he told me though, it sounds like your kidneys basically gave out."

Sniper frowned when he heard that before letting his head fall back on the pillow with a thump.

"Fucking hell. The pills."

"If me and Scout had known you needed them, we'd have made sure you remembered to bring them."

"Yeah, no, it's fine. I told Doc to keep it quiet an' all."

Pyro frowned and let his mug fall to his lap.

"Why?"

Sniper grimaced before smiling wryly.

"Didn't want you two young un's thinkin' I was turning into some old guy who had to count out thirty different kinds of medication every day."

Pyro snorted at that and Sniper cast him a startled look.

"Don't feel bad about having to take meds, Sniper. I have to have my asthma pump on me all the time, and Scout still needs vitamins because he won't eat his damn vegetables. Engineer's on statins and Demo refuses to admit he has to take vitamin D supplements. Soldier has injections he has to take, but he won't tell me what for."

Sniper huffed a weak laugh at that and waved a hand.

"Don't make me laugh, mate, it hurts."

"Sorry man. I'd better clear off; Doc told me and Scout to keep out of the way. And seriously, Doc told me to make you take your pills as soon as you woke up."

"With the tea?"

Pyro grinned. "With the tea."

Sniper grimaced and Pyro's grin widened. "C'mon, man, don't offend the one Brit on the team. I like to think I'm pretty good at doing my country proud when I make a brew."

Sniper acquiesced to that with a weak wave of his hand and the bed creaked as Pyro left, closing bunkroom door quietly behind him. Medic continued to sleep, oblivious as to the conversation that had just transpired. Sniper studied his face in the morning sun, noting that his frown had finally eased out in sleep, before reaching over and taking the two white pills which had been set out for him with a swig of tea.

Medic would skin him for forgetting his meds later, but for now, at least, Sniper could sleep without fear of being whisked away to respawn in the night.

It all worked out in the end.

* * *

There was a five day ceasefire when moving between bases to allow each team to settle in. Medic managed to catch up on much needed sleep over that time and as soon as the Infirmary was unlocked and clean sheets had been put on the recovery beds, he moved Sniper onto a bed there for further monitoring. By then, however, Sniper was feeling much like his normal self and resented being cooped up in doors all day. There wasn't even any inventory to do, as Heavy was still recovering from his heatstroke and the rest of the team and their belongings wouldn't arrive for at least another day.

Pyro and Scout, however, found plenty to do.

They wanted to hang around in the Infirmary with Sniper (playing nurse had led to them feeling a little responsible for him and they didn't want to leave) but Medic shooed them out and told them to find some rooms to paint or something.

Pyro was surprised when Scout took that offer literally, dusting off some old tins of paint that were lying in the corner of the workshop. They found brushes and rollers in the supply cabinet downstairs and after arguing over what colours to take, they eventually settled on a pale green and buttercup yellow. Landfall was still quiet and empty and Pyro realised how much noisier base was when the other mercs were around.

He kind of liked it with just him and Sniper. Oh, and Medic, who hadn't left the Infirmary since arriving. Spy, naturally, was nowhere to be found.

"So, what's with the sudden urge to do some decorating?"

"I found a nice room upstairs man, but the walls are still bare. I don't wanna feel like I'm sleeping in a prison cell, y'know?"

Pyro shrugged in reply to that and followed Scout upstairs.

The room was just as nice as he'd claimed it was; big enough for a king-size bed and a beaten up wardrobe in the corner. Two large windows faced east to meet the rising sun and Pyro was glad for having fought for the yellow paint; it'd bring all that sunlight right into the room.

"Wow, you weren't kidding."

"Cool, right?"

"Definitely. You gonna be all right with this yellow though?"

Scout made a frame with his hands and closed one eye, centering the room in the little viewfinder he'd made for himself.

"Yeah, it'll look real nice. I call dibs on the roller though."

"Asshole."

After that, they quickly settled in and painted the walls companionably. As Scout painted, he realised that the last person he had expected to become such close friends with was Pyro. Sure, he'd thought he was alright when they first met. The British accent had been kind of difficult to get used to, but the guy burned things up well enough and they were a great team on the battlefield. It had only really been after that scuffle back at Badlands on the day that BLU played their bastard hand that they'd really hit it off. That made sense in Scout's book. The best  way to get close to someone was often as simple as having to punch them in the face.

Pyro had proved to be pretty good at that.

Not so much at avoiding practical jokes.

"Hey, Py, get a load of this." Scout said with a smirk. As Pyro turned with an inquisitive expression, Scout lunged forwards and neatly ran the paint roller across his face. To his credit, Pyro remained remarkably calm as he reached up to touch the yellow dripping slowly on his dark skin. Scout was struggling not to buckle over with laughter, snorts breaking out from between his lips.

So he didn't have time to react when Pyro reached down and grasped the handle of the paint can before standing up on his toes to empty the contents right over his head.

For the second time that week, Landfall rang with the laughter of youth.

* * *

Downstairs, Medic cast a curious look upwards at the ceiling before noticing Sniper's soft smile aimed in the same direction.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Huh? Oh, just those two. They've got real close since the scouting mission."

"I wouldn't have expected Scout to be the sort of person Pyro would befriend." Medic noted before returning to his paperwork. Sniper regarded him with a surprised look from where he was reclined on the gurney.

"Who else could it' a been?"

Medic made a dismissive gesture with his hand, the curious look dissolving into a disapproving frown as the laughter upstairs devolved into a high howl of shock, quickly followed by the sounds of feet pounding down the upstairs corridor.

"Engineer, perhaps. Demo, maybe."

Sniper couldn't disagree there.

"Yeah. Doesn't look like the firebug's got an issue with keepin' up with him, as it were."

There was a comfortable silence as Medic continued filling out paperwork. Sniper, having nothing better to do was trying and failing to fill out a crossword puzzle on the back of a newspaper.

He was distracted from trying to think of a four letter word beginning with L when Medic spoke again.

"I am glad he found someone. Pyro, I mean."

"Yeah. S'not good for a young man like him to not have any companionship."

"There is that," Medic said, acquiescing with a stray motion of a hand, "But I was more concerned for his mental health, than anything."

"Anythin' for the rest of us to worry about?"

Medic tapped his pen against his lip in thought before returning to his paperwork.

"I shouldn't think so. It is more that I believe Pyro would benefit from having someone to talk to than a shoulder to cry on. He is a remarkably well-adjusted young man."

Sniper wondered then about Pyro. Up until then, he'd not given the younger man much thought, but now he had a few questions. He was more the type to sit and wonder than go digging however, so he returned to the crossword and said nothing more.

That four letter word eluded him for another fifteen minutes until Medic glanced at the clock and rose from his desk.

"So, how are you feeling now?"

"Uh, better, I guess."

"Good, good. No pain in your abdomen or lower back?"

"Just kinda achy from lyin' down, I guess."

Medic nodded sagely and delicately took Sniper's wrist. Medic gave him a curious look when he flinched, but didn't mention it as he kept a steady gaze on his watch, lips moving faintly as he counted off heartbeats.

Now and again, a moment occurs in someone's life when they are struck by the absurdly mundane beauty in some things. It might be something as simple as the deep red colour of a recently-rained upon post box, or the comforting, steamy whir of a coffee machine. Other times, it might be a person whom we are struck by. It could be the constellations of freckles on someone's skin, or the particular creases of their smile.

In that moment, Sniper was struck particularly by Medic, and the warm, studious air he had about him. The Infirmary was still airing out, and the room smelt of dust and off the green forest air encroaching from outside. Sunlight bolted through the open windows in golden lances, highlighting the little motes of dust which circled in the air in front of Medic's face. Sniper watched, silently mesmerized, as his lips formed foreign syllables, eyes not wavering from the second hand of his watch.

There was an unexpected and lazy thud in Sniper's chest and a literal heartbeat later, an imperceptible quirk of surprise on Medic's brows. The steady pressure of his fingers at the base of Sniper's wrist didn't ease up, feeling every flicker of the other man's tendons and the firm, steady beat of his heart.

"Hmm. 82 beats per minute. A  little high perhaps." Medic murmured to himself before suddenly casting a stern look at Sniper, who had the courtesy to look surprised.

"Pyro didn't sneak you any coffee earlier did he?"

"No-"

And then Medic was gone, turning neatly on his heel and clicking a ballpoint pen a few times before making a note on the clipboard attached to the end of Sniper's bed.

"Well then. We shall have to make sure your caffeine intake remains low for another day or so."

Sniper grunted in irritation and glanced away. He'd been dreaming of a cup of dark coffee for a few hours now; he felt like he hadn't started the day properly until he'd had at least two cups.

"Could just be 'm nervous around doctors." he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

Sniper startled and quickly seized the forgotten newspaper again.

"Uh, nothin'."

Medic looked as though he wanted to argue, but let it slide as he returned the clipboard and tucked the pen back in his pocket. Eager to cover up his blunder and command his heart to slow down, Sniper went to add another letter to his crossword...Only to stab the pen straight through the paper.

"Ah, shit."

"Struggling?"

"You could say  that."

Apparently, Medic hadn't noticed the fiasco with the pen, as he turned back from the clipboard and returned to Sniper's side.

"How many letters?"

"Four."

"Beginning with?"

"..L"

An expression of thought crossed Medic's face before he gently removed the newspaper from Sniper's hand, studying the crossword intently. He saw the empty space and gave a little huff of amusement.

"Oh, that's easy."

Somehow, Sniper's somewhat-pleasant stay in the Infirmary was beginning to turn sour. A little petulantly, he offered Medic the pen he'd extricated from the paper and replied shortly;

"You do it then."

Medic took the offered pen and quickly scratched in four letters, returning the paper as well before he excused himself.

"I need to check some filing in the Intelligence room. Stay here, bitte."

Sniper watched the door flap behind him with a mixture of relief and disappointment. On a whim, he checked the crossword again and his heart thudded slowly once more.

There, nestled in amongst his untidy, angular scrawling, were four elegant, cursive letters.

_Four letter word. Starting with L. Something everybody deserves to feel in some way at some point in their lives._

"Love...I could've got that."

Sniper grunted again and rolled the newspaper up on the side table beside his bed before turning over and trying to convince himself to fall asleep.

* * *

The rest of the team arrived a few hours later in the day. Medic's ambulance had been hitched somewhat inelegantly to the back of Heavy's pickup, and whilst the team had driven a little slower to accommodate their heat-stricken Russian, good time had been made on the way to Landfall. By then, Sniper had been mercifully released from the Infirmary (he had a bit of a limp, because the catheter Medic had inserted to relieve pressure on his kidneys had left him feeling a little delicate down there) but he still managed to hobble out to the front of the base to welcome the rest of the team. He was relieved to see that his van was fine, but he resisted the urge to check it over in favour of greeting his team mates. He had assisted Medic in procuring refreshments for the tired drivers, but refrained from having any of the coffee himself. Scout and Pyro casually inserted themselves into the scene a few minutes after they heard the cars arriving, looking dishevelled and excitable. Yellow paint had been smeared over the back of Scout's legs, presumably in an unsuccessful attempt to wipe it off, and they both left a trail of pale yellow footprints on their way out of the building. The hilarity paused for a moment as Engineer wordlessly reached up and swiped a streak of yellow off of Pyro's temple.

"Looks like we missed out on something interestin'"

"Yeah, long story." Pyro said awkwardly.

Sniper empathised with that feeling as each team member found time to pat his shoulder or pull him in for a quick hug. The sentiment was appreciated, but he felt strange being the centre of attention. Even so, it was good to have the team all together again; the usual atmosphere if vitality and excitement had settled over the base with the arrival of the other men and they all felt a little safer for being a single unit again.

After a while, the group dissolved into its usual components as  some men went to begin unpacking and others headed back inside. Medic and Demo assisted Heavy inside, as he was still recovering from the heatstroke, and Engineer and Soldier began moving the vehicles into the garage, Scout following quick behind. Pyro hung back to catch a few words with Sniper.

"Hey, uh, Sniper?"

"Yeah?"

Pyro ran a hand self-consciously through his hair and glanced briefly after Scout, as if checking he was out of earshot.

"Thanks for letting me come along. On the scouting mission, I mean."

"Heck, no need to thank me for it, kid. Startin' to feel more and more like I owe _you_."

Pyro laughed a little at that, his lopsided smile widening into a full grin. His teeth were unusually white and his canines were surprisingly sharp.

"Don't mention it man. Just...Don't forget to take your stupid meds next time."

Then it was Sniper's turn to look self conscious and he turned over the van keys in his hand, grateful for the distraction they provided. Thankfully, Pyro took that moment to take his leave and follow after Scout towards the garage.

The van was as comforting and cramped as he remembered. Engineer had tidied up a little here and there (the man just couldn't leave anything unorganized) but the space was largely the same. As soon as he had sat down on the tiny couch beneath the window, Sniper felt that last bit of worry and tension ease off his shoulders. He took a moment to appreciate the familiarity of his home away from home before hopping into the cab and starting the engine again.

With a reluctant whine that brought a smile to his face, the camper started up and Sniper drove carefully around the back of the base, parking up behind a small outbuilding. The skies weren't all open and endless like they had been in Badlands, but  at least the air was still crisp and clear.

The sun was just starting to colour the tips of the trees as he moved back into the living space of the camper and fiddled with the coffee machine. That, unexpectedly, did not complain at its use as it normally did and when Sniper turned the thing around to study the neat if slightly ugly modifications made to the back, he couldn't help but smile. The coffee from the machine tasted better than it had in years.

Sniper decided he ought to let Engineer in the van more often after that.

* * *

As the sky up above began to warm to a pale pink and the fog settling in the valley began to burn off, Scout stood in the doorway of the garage uncharacteristically nervous. His feet paddled against the concrete floor and his gaze flitted about, as though he was afraid of someone seeing him that way. After a moment of painful indecisiveness, he steeled himself and called out to Engineer as he exited the cab of one of the still-loaded pickups.

"Hey, uh, Engie?"

"Yeah?"

Scout swallowed again and looked back out the garage door. He could see Pyro across the courtyard, dragging a hand nervously through his dreadlocks before approaching Sniper and beginning an unheard conversation. Somehow, knowing that other man was just as nervous as he was gave Scout the courage to speak his mind.

"Is it, y'know, a good idea to do somethin' even if you're real nervous about it?"

Engineer only chuckled in reply to that as he hung the pickup keys on the little hook beside the workbench where all the vehicle keys were kept.

"Those somethin's are usually the best ones, if I'm honest. I mean, what can go wrong? We got respawn, root beer and more bullets than you can shake a stick at. That's more reason to try somethin' foolhardy than ever, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess."

Engineer's expression had softened a little by then and he made his way over to Scout, who continued to sneak glances at Pyro as he spoke with Sniper.

"You gonna fess up about what's got y'all so nervous all of a sudden?"

Instantly Scout's eyes snapped back into the garage and he tried to go for a relaxed posture, instead ending up with an awkward, ram-rod straight pose.

"Just somethin' I wanted to ask a guy, is all."

"Well, so long as it ain't his bank details or his family affairs, I don't see any harm."

Scout released a somewhat nervous breath at that and directed his gaze towards the floor, scuffing the concrete softly with the cleats on the toe of his shoe.

"Yeah. I guess. Just didn't wanna fuck it up, is all."

"Surprised you askin' me for advice, when you've got seven older brothers with all wisdom of the world between 'em at home."

"David and Jessie are in jail, but I can see your point. But they ain't so good with matters of invitation as they are with matters of violence, ya get me?"

Engineer did, even though half of that message got lost somewhere in Scout's nerve-thickened brogue. Matters of invitation? Heck, if Scout'd managed to land a date already after only a week at Landfall, he'd eat his boot.

"Sure do. Always around if y'all need any more advice." he replied amiably.

At that moment, the gravel crunched quietly and Scout nearly jumped out of his skin when Pyro appeared in the doorway beside him, looking at ease and chilled out as he always did.

"Hey man."

"Oh! uh, hey dude." he said lamely, all of Engineer's advice suddenly seeming useless in the face of what he wanted to ask.

Pyro, always quick to tune in on the behaviour of those around him, noticed Scout's pale attempt to act normally instantly.

"Is there something wrong, Scout?"

"Hell, naw. Just-no. Yeah, ok, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Sure." Pyro said uncertainly as Scout steered him out of the doorway.

The air outside was alive with the twin sounds of crickets and of various machines in the base beginning to hum in full. Distant snatches of conversations carried on the thin mountain air and there was the ever present smell of sawdust and damp wood that Scout had come recognise as Landfall's signature scent. Pyro fancied that he could smell the wood burning in the base's furnaces as well.

Scout ran out of momentum somewhere behind the garage.

"So, uh, yeah. Um."

"What?" Pyro asked politely. Scout scowled at his stupid British accent-it was too goddamn polite and curious and it made him swear funny.

"I-uh. Shit-"

"God, Scout, just spit it out!" Pyro said with a tint of laughter.

"Do you wanna share my room!" Scout snapped, suddenly irritable now that he'd reached the end of his fuse.

Pyro's golden eyes widened and Scout's stomach dropped. Goddamn shit, he'd gone and fucking done it now-

"Sure."

Scout's train of thought abruptly pulled out of the nose dive it had begun. He stared a little stupidly at the athletic man standing before him, putting his hands idly in the pocket of his hoodie. Scout was painfully aware of the birds crying high in the trees, and of the way his jeans clung damply to the backs of his knees from the yellow paint splashed there.

"What."

"Dude, I said sure. I don't get why you got so weird about asking me." Pyro's expression was equal parts reserved amusement and polite curiosity. It made Scout's stomach turn, because it was the exact same expression that girl in high school had given him when he asked her out to prom.

"Uh, yeah...Me neither." Scout muttered, evading those inquisitive eyes as he directed his gaze to the dark brown earth he could feel his cleats digging into.

Pyro allowed Scout to steep inwardly for a moment before breaking the silence again.

"So are you gonna help me drag my mattress in there or what?"

Scout's grin was only a half-second too slow and Pyro ignored it. He'd been hoping that's what Scout wanted to ask him, but refused to allow himself to count his chickens before they hatched. Pyro never held especially high or grand hopes for anything in life, only a quiet sort of optimism. That, thankfully, paid off more often than risking full on hope.

"Sure man. But you ain't puttin' those Star Trek figures on the goddamn windowsill."

Once the mattress had been wrestled into place on the other side of the room and Pyro had hummed an unfamiliar tune under his breath as he slid sheets and covers on his bed, Scout found all his embarrassment melting away. Pyro stood hip to hip with him as he helped staple several massive posters to the wall above Scout's side of the bed. Again, Scout tried and failed to ignore the way Pyro's hoodie had rode up and bared his toned abdomen to the quickly brightening sun. Pyro didn't say anything, but he was still giddily delighted that Scout had offered to share his room at all.

In the end, he didn't say anything when he returned from the showers with damp hair to find Pyro's figurines lined up on the windowsill.

* * *

In the Infirmary, Medic muttered to himself in German as he and Engineer tried, with difficulty, to lower Heavy onto the bed gently. It wasn't an easy task given the man's size, but somehow they managed it.

As Medic fiddled with an IV drip, tugging the metal stand over to beside the bed, he thought about Sniper and the congruent sounds of the ailing camper van engine moving around to the back of the base. Height be damned, but he was a sneaky bastard. He thought he could slip away without Medic noticing. Well, he'd just have to drag him out of the van later. Or sabotage his coffee machine. Whichever was easier.

Irritable and highly aware of the unusual sleeping pattern he'd been forced to keep recently, Medic shooed Engineer out of the Infirmary immediately. Heavy seemed fine, and once provided with a book dug out of the trailer to read, was content to spend the night there.

As Medic puttered about, setting the Infirmary to rights and beginning to unpack the inventory which was deposited at the door later, he thought a little more in depth about the BLUs.

They still had yet to occupy their own base, and nobody had any idea when they would arrive within the next five days of the ceasefire. There was concern in the back of his mind as to whether he would be able to replicate their technology, or create something just as good. More than that, though, he was offended. Offended that the other Medic had came up with the technology first, or that Administration had favoured BLU over RED.

Surely they deserved that gun just as much as they did? Did they not suffer and bleed and die as much as BLU? Did they not fight as valiantly as them day after day?

His hands stilled over a stack of paperwork as the guttering engine of the camper stopped. And what of Sniper? If he had had a Medi Gun like that of the BLU Medic, would he have been able to mend him? Could all of that pain and discomfort and stress put upon Scout and Pyro have been avoided?

Elsewhere in the base, doors could be heard opening and closing. Footsteps traced over the floorboards overhead and scraps and snatches of conversations carried through the windows. He wouldn't allow himself to think of what if's. Not yet. Not when they were finally all back together and setting up for the long haul here. He was already doing as much as humanly possible to keep his team safe, both on and off the field.

The top page of the stack of paperwork was a requisitions form. He scanned the long list of expensive medications; the obscenely large amount of morphine they ripped through in a matter of days. The  flood of gauze and bandage that so many bullet wounds necessitated. Medic pursed his lips.

But he could do more. He could definitely do more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Finally fixed Pyro's voice! Hope no one's upset I made him a Brit. Always feel there could be more Europeans on the team, and I felt left out. Also, I'd like to take a moment to discuss some of the things I've felt driven to do for the benefit of this fic:  
> -Enlisted my mother as a support actor and pretended I have a gunshot wound so that I could figure out better where Medic and Scout's hands were for the opening scene in Chapter One.  
> -Studied unfamiliar American maps for hours on end, trying to find a good place to headcannon where the Landfall base is.  
> -Dragged my parents down to the forest just to get a more recent idea of what the air smells like.  
> -Clothed myself in a bed sheet in order to try and guess at how Medic's coat moves.  
> -Deliberately made Coca Cola come up through my nose to try and feel Medic's desperate and exhausted laughter as he did at the end of the last chapter.  
> -Went to the Ferrari dealership in Canterbury with a male friend, all dressed up in decent clothes, pretending to be newly-weds looking at cars so I could actually get inside one and write better about Spy's car and try to understand why he's so protective of it.  
> -Pulled an all nighter and eaten only granola bars and coke to try and sympathise better with Scout and Pyro (ok it was actually to finish some homework but that one served a double purpose)  
> -Dug out the old BB rifle in the attic and, though unloaded, practiced bringing the scope to my eye and pretending to fire, because it was as close as I could get to a sniper rifle.  
> -Went to Homebase where they keep the rough cut wood planks and stuff, breathing in the air so I had a better idea of what Landfall and all the lumber there might smell like.  
> -Watched a video about how to make a smokeless fire because I didn't know if that was a thing Pyro could do (you can, apparently.)  
> -Stumbled around in a friend's (way too big for me) football boots, because I wanted to know what it felt like to run around in cleated shoes.  
> There will undoubtedly be more hilarity in the future as I try to wrap my head around writing fight scenes, try to guess what having a dick feels like and, most importantly, how heavy a Medi Gun might feel. Perhaps I'll update you guys next time I do something stupid in the name of writing. Also, I realise the crossword thing here is really dumb and cheesy, but I couldn't resist.
> 
> EDIT: To clarify, I am stupid and even though I live in England, I failed to recognise that Scotland+England=Britain, and that makes Demo British. Lmao. So, to clarify, I felt left out bc there isn't someone English on the team, and I felt an oppurtunity had been missed. So. Yeah. My bad!
> 
> ~Leon


	7. A Theft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "War makes thieves and peace hangs them"  
>  ~George Herbert

** Chapter Six **

_ A Theft _

Once Medic was concerned with Sniper and he had encouraged Pyro and Scout to crash on the sofa, Spy had found it far too easy to sneak away. He assumed that Sniper and the other two men had scouted the enemy base out earlier, before everything with the kidney medication had happened, but he wanted his own map in his mind.

He was only able to give it a flying look then, as he was worried about being missed and also about to drop dead of exhaustion himself, but once the rest of the convoy arrived on base later that day and he had snatched a few hours of sleep, he had more time to play with. In amongst the melee of unpacking, greetings and making of beds, he was able to slip away.

The day was heating up now and whilst he didn't miss the sweltering heat of the Badlands, Landfall certainly couldn't be called cold. He kept his revolver in hand as he approached the BLU base, ready at any moment to deploy his cloak should he need to.

Even deserted as it was, the BLU base gave him chills. So far as he could tell, the layout was a perfect mirror of that of the RED base. His first target was the Intelligence room; sadly empty of briefcases. After that, he headed down to the maintenance levels. Those concrete corridors were dark and damp and buried in the earth as they were, cold enough to make his teeth chatter. He followed the cables set into the ceiling until he found the central fuse boxes. By the light of a small torch he kept  on a keychain, he browsed the labelled fuses.

_Respawn._

_Dormitory wing._

_Shower room_

_Armoury._

_Intelligence room._

_Kitchen._

That was the first thing he tinkered with. He didn't dare touch anything more important lest he feel the wrath of Administration. He considered briefly blowing the fuse and then mashing up the connectors so that no new ones could be inserted. Then he decided it would be crueller (and ultimately his jape would last longer) if he just straight up stole the fuse and any stocked in the supply cupboard. With luck, it'd take weeks for BLU to requisition new fuses and they'd have to put up with little discomforts for longer.

With a sly smile, he deftly dug out the little fuse for the wiring in the kitchen, and also the one for the boilers, central heating, rec room and the dormitory. No fresh food, television, hot water or lights in their bedrooms would certainly make life for the BLUs a little more difficult.

On his way out of the maintenance levels and back up to the regular basement, Spy passed by the Infirmary. He paused in front of the double doors and after a moment, tested them. Unlocked.

He let himself in. Nothing in the room appeared to have been disturbed for some time: a thin layer of dust coated the surfaces. A desk which looked eerily similar to that of his own Medic was positioned by the wall. Rifling through the drawers yielded nothing but a few candy wrappers, but it did give him an idea.

Pulling out his disguise kit, Spy opened a secret compartment on the inside panel. Lined up inside were five tiny pieces of electronics, no bigger than the fingernail on his pinkie finger. He removed one and gently pressed it to the underside of the desk. He made sure everything was as he left it, and the remaining four listening devices were distributed across the base. He doubted all of them would remain in place, if BLU had picked up the habit of destroying Administration's bugs in their base as they had, but it was something.

Now, he had a live, twenty four hour feed from the BLU Infirmary, Armoury, Intelligence room, workshop and rec room. He would only be able to listen in on one line at once and eventually the batteries in the microphones would run down, but it gave him an edge. Only a miniscule one, but an edge nonetheless. They needed all the intel they could get whilst BLU still held the upper hand, and Spy wasn't above going off record to try something underhanded. It was what he was paid to do, after all.

Perhaps the BLUs would learn the hard way not to dither next time they moved base.

* * *

Heavy recovered from his heatstroke quickly once he was in Medic’s capable hands. Over the rest of the ceasefire, Medic was quick to ensnare anyone passing the Infirmary for assistance in unpacking his inventory. Scout, surprisingly, complained very little once Pyro offered to help out as well. Medic decided not to chide him for stealing handfuls of cotton swabs; he didn’t want to ruin whatever odd mood had settled over the two of them for the sake of basic toiletries.

The BLU team arrived two days before the end of the ceasefire. Sniper, already well acquainted with his base and testing out a particular hide, watched them intently. Elsewhere in the RED base, Spy ducked into an empty broomcupbard and tuned in to his network of listening devices implanted in the BLU base. A mischievous grin crossed his face when he heard their Scout cursing the television, and when their Engineer yelped at the lack of hot water exiting the showerheads. It was less than four minutes before there was a full blown fight occurring in the BLU base. Up on the roof, Sniper snorted in amusement to witness the chaos unfolding through his binoculars. It was rare he was afforded a front row seat to such hilarity and he fully intended to mock his double for taking that punch from the Soldier so well on the chin next time they encountered each other on the field.

Weapons arrived the day before the end of the ceasefire and Medic took it upon himself to try and regulate the free-for-all that ensued. As soon as the shipping containers were pried open, Scout was first to dive in, producing Pyro’s flamethrower before returning in search of his bats. Sniper hung back, away from the ruckus, intending to wait until either his weapons were handed to him or he had the leisure of being able to collect them himself. Medic, for all his efforts, gave up once Demo joined the fray, fretting about his bone saws. He decided that next time they moved base, he’d ask Administration to pack their weaponry in class designated containers so as to avoid this fuss next time. Scout, still leading the excavation, looked confused when he pulled out one of Sniper’s rifles, surprised at the size of it.

“Jeez, Snipes, when did they let ya starting shootin’ a freakin’ cannon?”

“Careful with that, mate. Admin ships ‘em loaded and if she goes off with you holdin’ her like that, she’ll dislocate your shoulder.”

Scout, suitably advised, delicately laid down the Machina atop the shipping container and shoved Soldier aside as he attempted to reach into the shipping container for a third time. Eventually, the mob dissolved and everyone’s weaponry was stowed safely in their lockers. Medic was last to delve into the containers, as his weapons were always packed in more protective wrappings to prevent eager hands being amputated during the unpacking of the containers. Sniper, as much as he trusted Administration, preferred to go over his weapons himself before stowing them away.

“Do they really ship your rifles loaded, Sniper?” Medic called as he reached down into the shipping container. He heard Sniper chuckle from across the room, the gentle clunk as he set the Machina in its rack in his locker.

“Nah. Just said that to scare Scout off. I wasn’t lying about it dislocating his shoulder though.”

“The Machina fires with that much force?”

Sniper shrugged. “It’s got to, if you wanna fire armour-piercing rounds.”

He heard Medic tut as he reached back into the container, pulling something out which the wrappings did little to disguise the vicious shape of.

“I assume you do not wear support bandages when using that gun?”

Unexpectedly, Sniper snorted a little with laughter. Medic had the decency to look surprised.

"I'm not that much of an idiot, Doc. So don't pick too hard on Scout next time you accuse him of stealing your bandages, yeah?"

Before Medic had the chance to reply, Sniper had closed the padlock on the handle of his locker and he'd left the room, avoiding any comeback Medic may have had.

Processing that information for later, Medic hummed a little noise of interest before unwrapping the bone saws and stowing them away.

* * *

Sniper managed to extricate himself from the usual chaos surrounding the dinner table sometime around seven in the evening. The air was already starting to cool outside and now and again, the clap-clap of a bat flitting past overhead could be heard. He hadn’t seen Medic since earlier in the morning and he hadn’t turned up for dinner, so Sniper loaded up a plate with some of the spicy fajitas Pyro had produced earlier, balancing the plate carefully on the crook of his elbow as he navigated the narrow steps down to the Infirmary.

Soft music reached him, muffled through the double doors. As clearly as he could with a plate of hot chicken balanced on his arm, Sniper knocked twice on the door before pushing gently through. Medic looked up from his desk, apparently surprised to see him.

“Sniper? What is the problem?”

The hot porcelain base of the plate was starting to scald his arm, so Sniper moved to deposit it on the corner of the desk, shrugging gently as he did so.

“You didn’t turn up for dinner, so I figured I should fix you a plate.”

After a beat, realisation dawned on Medic’s face and he rose elegantly from the desk. At some point in the evening, he’d taken off his coat and tie and had changed into one of the loosely-knitted sweaters they’d all started receiving about two months ago. It was a decidedly casual appearance and Sniper wasn’t prepared for how...Normal Medic looked when disavowed of his uniform.

“Ja, ja, so I did. Danke, Sniper."

“You actually wear that thing? The one I got’s about three sizes too big.”

“Oh, you got one as well?”

“Yeah, week before Christmas ceasefire. Muddy green colour, with m’crosshairs stitched on the shoulder.” Sniper gestured with a finger as he leant easily on the corner of Medic's desk, as though the yellow stitches would appear on his skin.

The event of the jumpers had become the greatest mystery of the RED team thus far. The culprit had yet to come forwards, as all knitted offerings had been left where the recipients might find them rather than being delivered personally. Every man had their own suspicions as to who among them was an avid knitter and up until then, Sniper had nursed quiet thoughts that it had been Medic. His surprise at hearing Sniper had received a jumper as well shot that theory down in flames and the anonymous knitter remained an enigma.

Medic laughed lightly at the mental image of Sniper in the jumper he’d just described as he started bolting the food Sniper had brought. He was a man always busy, and so couldn't stand the thought of actually sitting down at a table for the sole purpose of eating. He wasn't mannerless though, and the fajitas were quite spicy, so he forced himself to slow down for the conversation's sake.

“Where did our mystery seamstress leave your jumper, then?”

A wry smile crossed Sniper’s face as he fiddled with a loose pen lying on the desk.

“Stuffed under one of the wiper blades of my camper. Didn’t have any note pinned to it or anythin’.”

“I found mine left on my desk-no note, either. I took the fabric patch off the sleeve when I realised that whoever had made the jumper had managed to sew the German flag on upside down.”

That earned a snigger from Sniper as Medic started on another fajita. Sniper had become a little more comfortable in the Infirmary since his stay a little while ago, and whilst Medic ate, he meandered over to the record player, studying it as the vinyl circled under the needle. The music was much jauntier than he expected of Medic's taste; thick with brass and the smooth song of an African-American singer he wasn't familiar with. He'd expected classical, if he was honest. Soaring crescendos of cymbals, piano and violin seemed more Medic's style than jazz and swing.

_Always full of surprises, aren't you, Doc?_

"Didn't know you were into swing, Doc."

"I wasn't, up until about a year ago."

Interested, Sniper perused the small box of records sat next to the player, waiting to be unpacked. From what he could tell, it was a fairly diverse if compact collection.

"So, what prompted your interest, if you don't mind me askin'?"

Medic faltered with a forkful of chicken halfway to his mouth. He considered his answer for a heartbeat before replying:

"I heard some on the radio a while ago. It was...Unusual, so I looked into it."

The truth was, he'd noticed the saxophone case, labelled as Sniper's property, during the move to the Badlands base, and wanted to hear saxophone music for himself. But asking Sniper to play for him had seemed a little...Forwards, somehow, so he had explored that genre of music in another way. He doubted the swing records were quite the same as a solo performance, but it had satiated his curiosity for now and the hopes of hearing Sniper play in person had drifted to the back of his mind.

The mellow, dusky voice of the singer faded away as the record reached its end. Out of habit, Sniper lifted the needle and flipped the record over. The other side was instrumental, and more placid compared to the previous song. In another context, he would've placed it as slow dance music. Hearing another person persuade their alto to warble and sing, low and throaty, reminded him of his own. It was still packed away somewhere, and he wasn't sure where it'd got put.

"Huh. I wanted to be in a swing band once."

"Really?"

"Heh. Yeah, only when I was a kid. 'sides, the band class at school didn't need another sax player, so I just did my own thing."

As Medic digested that information (Sniper had been reclusive about his musical inclinations until then; Medic figured Sniper didn't know he'd found the saxophone case all that  time ago) they both enjoyed the sound of the jazz filling the Infirmary. The doves in their coop cooed beside the brass instruments, perhaps recognising some bird-like quality in the music.

Sniper felt then like he was starting to outstay his welcome. He'd brought food, made small talk, that was all he'd had to do. So he bid Medic a good evening and beat a hasty retreat, vowing to look for the saxophone in the morning.

Who knew, maybe it'd be nice to pick it up again. The one thing they all had these days was time.

* * *

Scout was particularly energetic in the Resupply room that day.

"C'mon, Py, aren't ya even a lil' bit excited?"

Pyro cast a curious but ever-patient look at Scout, hopping from one foot to the other in front of him. He resumed fiddling with the hammer on his flare gun.

"Why should I be? It's just work."

Scout reeled back dramatically in disbelief; Pyro smiled wryly, not looking up from his tinkering.

"Just work" Listen to yaself, buddy! First match on a new base is always the best, everyone knows that."

"Oh yeah, why's that?" Engineer called jovially, looking to bait Scout whilst he was still excitable.

"'Cause it's the best time to show those BLUs what we're really made of."

Before, that would've earned hearty calls of approval and self-satisfied nods. Now, it earned a jitter of doubt in the heart of every man loading his weapon and checking his equipment. Demo and Engineer shared a look across the room, but said nothing. Only time would tell as to whether they'd get the briefcase or not.

Spy, having heard that, made out quietly that he'd forgotten his new watch, and left the room. Once in the safety of the corridor, he flicked open his disguise kit and tuned in carefully on each of the tapped lines like a spider checking the threads of its web. Nothing but static from the BLU Intelligence room. Rec room and Armoury were quiet too. When he tuned into the Infirmary line, however, his fingers stilled on the tiny dial as he strained his hearing to follow the voices up and down the carrier waves;

"...Going to be late"

"....The other ones. Newest iteration isn't ready yet."

There was the heavy sound of something thunking on a surface nearby, very faint rustlings of fabric which Spy realised in a flash of understanding was probably the BLU Medic shouldering into the backpack of the Medi Gun.

"...Ready, Doktor?"

"Ja, ja. I will meet you there, Bärchen"

Spy's brow quirked into a frown at the unfamiliar German. The other voice in the room he quickly placed as the BLU Heavy, upon hearing his baritone chuckle afterwards. Was "Bärchen" a joke of some sort? Some inside camaraderie he wasn't parry to?

Spy didn't have a chance to find out, as no more words were exchanged. There was a door opening and closing, some more scuffling and mutterings he couldn't quite make out, and then the sound of the BLU Medic exiting his Infirmary.

Aware of how long he'd been listening in, and his thin excuse, Spy closed his disguise kit and returned to the Resupply room.

Scout was still trying, and largely failing, to get the collected Pyro revved up for the fight. Near to the doors, Sniper was doing some final calibration checks on his scope, bringing his rifle up to his eye a few times to check he had it right. Medic stood a little ways to the side, surprisingly reserved compared to how ready and confident he usually was before matches.

Spy noticed, and didn't say anything.

It was Engineer who called his attention away from Medic a moment later, when he raised his voice above the hubbub and beckoned them to gather loosely around.

"Alright, ya'll, I know we've been through this a hundred times, but let's just make sure everyone knows what the plan is today."

Pyro, ever patient, started the list off as he snapped the hammer back on the empty flare gun, holstering it at his belt.

"I go with Scout and Demo, break away in the centre courtyard, raise hell for anyone trying to move beyond that point. If I see the Medic, Heavy or Spy, I stick to them like glue till they're back at 'Spawn."

Soldier continued.

"I follow Demo until Pyro breaks away, and aid him in a courageous manoeuvre to the upper catwalks, where we will proceed to make life a misery for any man escaping Pyro's wrath!"

Heavy chimed in next.

"I go with Doktor and Sniper, lay cover fire for Engineer whilst he builds sentry, and until Sniper has good vantage point."

And so the breakdown continued. Sniper had elected to go with his usual policy of headshots over strategy, singling out the BLU Medic wherever he could. Spy, enlightened by what he had learned in the corridor, would prefer the disguise of the BLU Heavy, in order to remain close to the BLU Medic, in hopes of overhearing something about the nature of the Medi Gun.

They had just finished finalising their strategy when the intercom buzzed.

"Attention, RED team."

They all shuffled in expectation.

"I expect you to fight harder today than you have ever done before. Your objective is to acquire intelligence sufficient enough to replicate the technology which the BLU team has already produced. Battle commences in two minutes."

There wasn't much to say in reply to that. Demo blew out a deep breath; Pyro merely raised his eyebrows and glanced away. Both of those gestures said everything about the doubts plaguing them, but they had little choice other than to do what she said. Scout's shivers of energy took on a more menacing tone as he bounced on the balls of his feet, throwing mock jabs and hooks at the air in front of him. A tense sense of expectation hung over the REDs as they lined up on the border of the door.

Beside Scout, Pyro mumbled a few words of something unheard to himself before tugging on his gas mask and taking a deep breath through the rasping filters.

"Mission begins now!"

The door rattled upwards, and Scout was off like a shot. Demo and Pyro followed after as quickly as they could, dodging the bullets which were beginning to ping and clatter off the wooden clapboard of the buildings. Once Scout had broken away, Pyro tugged two small canisters off the bandolier slung across his chest. Pulling out the stoppers and half-jogging across the chokepoint, he spilled a mixture of thick tar and gasoline on the ground, retreating only to strafe his flamethrower across the trail and set a blazing inferno that was tall enough to reach the upper catwalks. He heard a broken wail as the BLU Scout ran head first into the blaze; a moment later, the reek of burning hair entered the filters of his gas mask. With a shiver of electric adrenaline now coursing through him, Pyro found himself with energy to spare as he bolted too and fro, refreshing his fire lines whenever they began to flicker. Screams and blood and soot quickly colored the air with a thick haze that up above, made Demo and Soldier hack and cough in between their howls of manic laughter at the carnage blossoming below.

The BLU Medic was crafty, though, and with an invulnerable Heavy leading a charge, the two of them blasted through Pyro's defences. Suddenly finding himself in the way of an oncoming freight train of trouble, Pyro found enough time to drop a flash bang and flee, hollering for Scout as he went.

In the buildings beyond the centre courtyard, Engineer wheezed at Pyro's smoke and beat the final parts of a sentry into place, the thunks of his wrench on metal echoing throughout the base. With a whirr, the sentry sprang to life, but by then, Engineer had hiked his toolbox up on his hip and was making haste for the corner of the catwalks, building another sentry to mirror the other and create a chokepoint. He heard the disjointed cry of the BLU Demoman as he stumbled across the first sentry, smiling proudly as the machine did its job. Setting to work, he kept a careful eye on the red laser dot that circled and tracked over the pine-needle strewn ground before him.

Rough bark bit into Sniper's skin as he finally settled himself high up in the tree in the centre of the courtyard. He heard Pyro drop a flash bang and the muffled calls for Scout or someone to help him a moment later. With a grunt, he unshouldered his rifle and by wrapping his legs around the tree branch he was sitting on, made himself more secure. Sighting up, he picked off the BLU Scout before he came charging up the alley way and doing away with Engineer, smiling at the grateful wave that earned in his general direction.

After that, the BLUs came thick and fast, trying and failing to flank Engineer's chokepoint and Pyro's now-flickering barricades of flame. Sniper found he was able to pick off most of them, aside from those who ducked inside the buildings. He saw a bright flash and sparks from inside, managed to pick up Engineer's muffled curse as he hightailed it back to the first sentry. Dropping his sights for a moment, Sniper pressed a finger to his earbug and announced over the airwaves;

"Watch out, folks, BLU Spy's on the move."

A pause whilst he watched Scout drop down from a catwalk and beat in the head of the BLU Pyro.

"Pyro, where are ya"

Static and gunfire. The earbug crackled, Pyro's voice hoarse as he gasped for breath.

"Inside...Lower floor...Can't shake the Heavy!!"

Scout responded a few moments later.

"Hang in there, buddy, I'm on it!"

Sniper watched Scout track across the battlefield, now largely empty as the fight moved inside. Sniper stayed in his perch until he saw Engineer follow a minute or so after, and then he began to delicate process of trying to shimmy down the tree.

He must've been largely unsuccessful in that attempt, as he woke up in Respawn an indeterminate amount of time later, back aching abominably. As he groaned and got to his feet, the system on the back wall cycled through and Scout and Pyro stepped out, looking ill and irritable. At Sniper's look, Scout took a gulp of breath and walked stiffly to the door, Pyro following, saying as he went;

"Sticky trap."

"Whereabouts?"

"Heck, I dunno. That big-ass door leadin' out onto the deck, I think."

As Scout jogged out onto the field, Pyro tugged up his gas mask just enough to be heard over the din raging outside;

"Hey, you got a match or something, my pilot light's out."

Sniper obliged, and when Pyro lifted the snout of the flamethrower up, he lit the little pilot flame for him. With Scout out of earshot, Pyro felt free enough to voice his concerns;

"So, any word on the intelligence yet?"

"Haven't even seen Spook yet today. Not sure if anyone else plans on having a crack at it."

Pyro nodded sagely and tugged down his gas mask before following after Scout. Sniper watched him go, worrying briefly, before grabbing some more ammo and heading back out.

Five minutes later, the Administrator called out their failure to defend their intelligence over the intercom.

When Scout kicked one of the small rocks lying by the Respawn doors, it sailed high, high into the sky and shattered an upper story window. Pyro watched the shards of glass fall like raindrops.

* * *

Sniper was beginning to wonder if they'd ever be able to pull this heist off with BLU having that damn gun and all. Scout's proclamation that the first battle at a new base was always the best had fallen hilariously flat, and the dark, horrid atmosphere that had haunted them for their last days at Badlands returned in an instant.

This time, when Scout went out to practice his swing against a battered sheet of corrugated aluminium, Pyro went with him. He'd see them both from the small windows of his camper; Scout's silhouette full of anger and disappointment, Pyro's calm and observant. He never heard what they said to each other on those dim, damp evenings. So he watched, and he wondered, and he worried.

Pitch. Swing. Crash.

Pitch. Swing. Clatter.

Pitch. Swing. Curse.

Pyro watched as one baseball after another hammered dents into the corrugated sheet propped up against a pine tree a little way away. The mug of tea cradled in his hands steamed softly in the dusk. Somewhere in the distance, a nightingale called.

Another few swings, and Scout let his bat fall to his side, chest heaving with exertion.

"Shit."

A moment passed.

"Yeah."

Scout sighed and shook his head before retrieving the fallen baseballs.

Pitch. Swing. Crash.

"We'll get it eventually."

Scout's next swing was particularly vicious; they watched the baseball soar into the tops of the pine trees, fall with a muffled crash somewhere in the forest. A home run.

"Yeah? And how the hell d'you know that, huh?"

Pyro shrugged gently, sipped his tea, keeping and owlish and watchful eye on Scout all the while.

"We always do." was the best he could manage.

Scout laughed bitterly, shaking his head again, before making a few more practice swings. This time, Pyro could see that he was imaging a skull connecting with that wood instead of a ball.

"And what if we don't?"

The reply came so late that Pyro glanced up in confusion. Scout was facing him, and all of the coiled up energy in his frame had disappeared. He looked...Lost. Shit.

Pyro's heart thudded at seeing that look on Scout's face. Defeat was not an expression which suited him, and Pyro couldn't bear the sight of it; it was like looking at a kicked puppy.

"Just. Hell-I don't know." Nerves flickered in Pyro's body; he combed a hand through his dreads, looked up at the sky coloured pink and orange by the sunset. The tall pines stood black and menacing, looming over base like dark-furred monsters. He could make it light again. Bright and flickering and beautiful. It'd be easy too.

With a quiet shudder of breath, Pyro quelled the urge to strike sparks and looked back at Scout before walking over to him.

"You just can't think like that, I guess."

Scout huffed bitterly again, but more resigned this time.

"Who told ya that?"

Pyro shrugged, glanced away.

"My P.E teacher. In year eight."

"That's like gym class right?"

"Yeah. But your gym class probably didn't involve the great British game of rounders."

Pyro couldn't help but smile softly at Scout's failure to comprehend.

"Rounders is...Like baseball, but less cool. And we had to play it with the girls."

Finally, a ghost of that lopsided grin Pyro had come to know well flitted onto Scout's face.

"Bet you loved that, huh."

Pyro grimaced in fond if embarrassed recollection and looked out at the dark, blocky shadow of the base.

"Not really. They kicked our asses."

The ice must've finally broken, because Scout's laughter bubbled up until it rang in clear, bright sounds out across the valley. Pyro found himself unable to smile giddily at the gangly, athletic man before him, and the way the sun painted his freckled skin a kind of candy floss pink.

Pyro's heart thudded again, but Scout was back to his usual 90 mile an hour self, chattering and gesturing as they began the trek back to base and their yellow-painted room.

When Pyro lay awake in bed later, watching the shadows cast by Captain Kirk and Spock and Uhura lengthen on the walls, his mind was free and clear of worries about BLU. He couldn't stop thinking about Scout's laugh. He'd done that.

Drifting off around midnight, Pyro slept better than he had at Landfall yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: My sole excuse for not updating this until now is that I was procrastinating having to write a battle scene. It was as difficult and unpleasant as I expected. So I apologise for how much this chapter skips around, but I did manage to develop the ships a bit...And sneak in some background heavymedic 


	8. AND SO TO THE END...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: I have tried multiple times to finish this fic, but I've lost muse entirely for TF2 I'm afraid and so I'll leave you, my wonderful readers, with my plotting document. It's only vague notes I'm afraid, this even in itself unfinished, but at least you won't be in the dark as to what's happening anymore. Thank you for your patience and support,
> 
> ~Leon

In Search Of More

**_ACT ONE: HORROR_ **

**Chapter One-The Default State:** Opening scene in the middle of a vicious fight in which the REDs are getting slaughtered. Medic trying to help as best he can, slapping bandages on and making field dressings. Other than that, he can do little more than put bullets in the heads of his patients and send them mercifully to respawn. End chapter in his infirmiry, writing a diary entry about how little he's able to do.

**Chapter Two-The New Unknown:** Another desperate battle in the RED's recent week long winning streak. They're about to make their payload detonate first, until the BLU Heavy charges onto the scene plated in invulnerability. Behind him comes the BLU Medic, carrying some abomination on his back. The RED team is stunned and within seconds, the BLU team wins thanks to this new contraption.

**Chapter Three-The Trials:** Morale hits an all time low as for a week solid the REDs are hammered into failure, eventually losing {MAP NAME} to the BLUs. They sit down and strategise-the key must be to eliminate the enemy Medic, who has gifted his team with invulnerability and, thanks to the Medi Gun he carries, effectively infinite health on tap. Over the next several battles, attempts are made to sap the Medi Gun's power (ineffective), poison it's heal beam (ineffective) and eliminate the Medic as frequently as possible (slightly more effective).

**Chapter Four-The Plan:** With Badlands slipping away to the BLUs and the enemy Medic's invention quickly turning the tide of war, Administration elects that RED team's new mission is to aquire and implement the knowledge required to build and operate one of these Medi Guns. Resolute in this new mission, the team sets out to steal the BLU briefcase and after a few failed attempts, succeed. Unfortunately, the briefcase does not contain the information Medic and Engineer require.

**Chapter Five: The Surrender** -having exhausted their only apparent option, the mercs hold an anonymous vote and decide to surrender formally to BLU. They all know that this means the loss of their jobs and perhaps the loss of their lives if Administration decides they can't leave knowing company secrets. However, they see the end of the war is near if they can't equalise with BLU, or bring them back down to pre Medi Gun levels of success. Spy, disgusted by how easily his comrades are giving up, breaks with company rules and enters the BLU base outside of hours, even though being caught means his permanent termination by Administration for breaking regulations. He manages to return with a few snippets of information-photographs, scribbled notes, little more. Medic is perplexed but delighted to find this on his desk the next morning and asks Spy how he obtained it; Spy lies and says that he tortured it out of a BLU the day before, managing to sneak the photos during battle.

**Chapter Six-The Infiltration:** Medic and Engineer use Spy's steady flow of thieved information to begin building a Medi Gun prototype. As the pressure from BLU increases and Spy finds himself being required to fetch more and more information in less and less time, he eventually caves and confesses everything he's done to Sniper one evening. Sniper is at first furious-no one else on the team up until now has been aware of the information and prototype gun. He's livid because knowing this would have given them all hope at a time when they most needed it. He goes to march down to the canteen and announce the goings on, but Spy persuades him not to, citing the risks of providing false hope-what if the prototype fails to work, or Engineer and Medic cannot complete it in time? Sniper reluctantly agrees and Spy, in desperation to wiggle out of his increasingly dependant position, hatches a plan with Sniper to straight up steal the BLU Medic's Medi Gun from their Infirmary during the next fight so that he won't have to infiltrate the BLU base covertly anymore.

**Chapter Seven-The Divide:** The next day rolls around and Spy and Sniper succeed in stealing the BLU Medic's Medi Gun, which they later store in Sniper's van. With two support members effectively running from the fight, however, BLU smash RED in the fight and after the battle tensions in the RED company are sky high and an argument breaks out over the dinner table. During the course of this argument, both Medic and Engineer are viciously attacked and the team begins to fall apart. Sniper and Spy are torn with the risk as to whether to speak out there and then about thieving the Medi Gun, or to stick to Spy's point about lending false hope and staying quiet. Unwisely, they choose to stay quiet and decide to bring the Medi Gun to Engineer later. However, both Engineer and Medic attacked Spy and Sniper during the argument for abandoning them and neither of them will talk to them. Spy and Sniper have secured an asset that the team is currently unable to use.

**Chapter Eight-The Wise One:** Now realising their mistake, Sniper and Spy have a private argument and end up fighting like alley cats. Spy, furious over what this fucking Medi Gun has done to his relationship with the team, with Sniper and to his job, disappears off the face of the earth. Sniper, on the other hand, retreats to his rooftop hideout and is surprised when Pyro joins him, apparently oblivious of what's going on. When Sniper viciously questions them as to why this is, Pyro replies that this war is about doing the best that they, personally, can and that all they can do is try to help the team struggle through what it's working through. Sniper takes this to heart and slides a note under Engineer's workshop door, asking him to meet him in the garage if they want to sort things out.

_**ACT TWO: HOPE** _

**Chapter Nine-The Mistake:** Medic briefly tries to discourage Engineer from meeting with Sniper, citing that together they are both surely smart enough to overcome this by themselves and finish the prototype gun. Engineer ultimately refuses and meets with Sniper an hour or so later, skeptical but willing to listen. Sniper describes how he and Spy stole the Medi Gun and Engineer is furious that he and Medic weren't told; Sniper retorts that he and Spy tried to, but were shut out and the two nearly fall out all over again. They both keep hold of their tempers, however, and bring the Medi Gun into the Infirmiry, where Medic cannot believe his eyes and tries to turn the thing on straight away without investigating first. The Infirmiry nearly goes up in flames; Medic has been knocked unconscious and has chemical burns along his arms. The BLU Medi Gun was designed to detonate upon being turned on without a proper boot up sequence; only the person who set the sequence can operate the gun. With Medic unconscious, the Infirmiry half blown up and Spy nowhere to be found, the RED team dissolves into chaos. Sniper manages to get Medic away from the burning room (he was trapped under a fallen beam and respawn system is off during off-duty hours to conserve energy) and to somewhere where Sniper can start trying to treat his wounds.

In a fit of rage at the nerve of the BLUs to boobytrap the Medi Gun and give them even less of a chance, Pyro storms the BLU base in the middle of the night, whilst the blaze in the RED base is still burning. Scout uncomfortably tags along. There, Pyro sets the BLU base aflame, sinking into some state Scout's never seen him in before. BEGIN EVENTS OF FLASH FIRE SIDESTORY

**Chapter Ten-The Nurse:** Pyro assists in getting the conflagoration under control before he storms the BLU base and the next day is deemed a ceasefire as Administration catches wind of what happened to the Infirmiry and to Medic (still recovering). Thankfully, she assumes it was a BLU sabotage and the secret of the stolen Medi Gun remains under wraps; she doesn't chastise Pyro, believing his actions were justified by the "sabotage". BLU don't pipe up about it because their Medic has been chaning his Medi Gun almost ervy battle, each one an upgrade on the last, and the ceasefire might give them more time to develop more powerful prototypes. Spy saw at least 15 prototypes and several more part machines on his secret missions. Spy wordlessly returns and out of guilt helps the others to start picking through the wreckage. During the cleanup, Demo picks up a piece of burnt metal and notes that it's the exact same stuff as what the firehoses coiled up in glass cases in his boarding school were made out of. Engineer, assisting with cleanup, has a brainwave and recalls the shape of the Medi Gun, and realises it must've been a modified firehose. Immediately he retreats to his workshop, stealing one of Pyro's flamethrowers and apparently spending the rest of the day inventing. Sniper, meanwhile, has been tending Medic and after apologies as to the original argument and having started everything, they share a surprisingly intimate conversation about fragments of their lives before-Sniper, of how he learned of yarrow's healing properties (one of the bush medicines he applied to Medic after the explosion as Medic was ofc indisposed and the Infirmiry+medicines were inaccessible bc of the fire) and Medic of how he once burned himself when younger trying to brew herbal tea for his mother. Enough medicines and shots were salvaged from the Infirmiry that Medic is able to patch himself up and in doing so, he notices the scent of the bandages and the faint blue powder scattered accross them. He remembers the explosion in vivid detail, and the scent of ozone that surrounded the Medi Gun and now his bandages. Startling Sniper, he sits up and jabbers to himself in German, ignoring Sniper's orders to rest and hobbling off to Demo's workshop. Together, they identify the components of the powder and thanks to Demo's innocent comment, end up learning more from the explosion of the Medi Gun than when they had had it whole before them.

**Chapter Eleven-The Ceasefire:** The ceasefire ends up being extended for a week and the mercs sent on a vacation of sorts so that Administration can repair the RED infirmiry. BLU disapproves as this will break their rhythm, but is discouraged from asking difficult questions. With all this free time on their hands, the mercs quickly get bored and split up, exploring further from the base now they're free to do so. Looking for themselves and trying to cope with mercenary life, Pyro and Scout steal Spy's car and hightail it into San Francisco, becoming lovers somewhere along the way. Medic is still recovering from the blast, but he is up and about and Sniper awkwardly asks him if he'd like to take the van with him and get away from everything. Medic is taken aback, but agrees; he's been kicked off base and in his current state would only get in the way of the other mercs, now out partying. In the new-found peace and quiet, Sniper finds energy to sketch again, he hasn't for a long time, and Medic is pleasantly occupied with reading all the books that were saved from the fire. It's an unexpected but pleasant arrangement and as conversation flows, the two burst into raucous laughter and from out of the ice Sniper broke when tending Medic, something begins to bloom. (also during this time Medic begins taking notes on the Medi Gun again maybe??). Scene with Sniper choosing to bathe in the lake, and Medic catching glimpses of his bare torso in the sun. Rolling Stones "Don't Stop" plays on the radio (yo Jayme check that shit and make sure it's era safe ok thx fam). Jacking off? Maybe.

Spy, meanwhile, has made his own way separate of the others and has found lodgings in a motel outside of town. There, he sits thinking through his actions and sinking further and further into horrid feelings of self hatred, deciding that he was a coward to have run from Sniper and his arguments as he had and elects that next time they see each other, he will try to repair their friendship.

**Chapter Twelve-The Evening:** Filler chapter with other mercs in a bar maybe?

**Chapter Thirteen-The Test:** the mercenaries are all notified to return to base. END FLASH FIRE SIDE STORY. Medic by now is pretty much fully mended aside from a few bruises and Sniper finds himself missing his prescence in the van more than he expected. Medic is delighted with the state of his new infirmiry; it's like Christmas come early. Whilst they were away, Engineer was able to find some parts he thought might be useful for building the new Medi Gun. Work on the prototype resumes and three days later when neither Engineer or Medic have been seen for three days straight, Engineer makes an announcement over comms and asks everyone to come down to the workshop and see what they've made. Compared to the original BLU Medi Gun, it's ugly and rough around the edges, but essentially the same. Medic runs a hand fondly over it and states that this one doesn't have a disarming sequence-it's still an unknown as to the effects of the Medi Gun outside of battle however and as Medic expected, no one volunteers to test the healing beam. He is disappointed but not surprised and the mercs drift off again. Sniper remains behind and talks about the new Medi Gun-all the shit they went through to make it and now everyone's too afraid to use it. Without another word, he takes a knife off his belt and slashes his hand-Medic admonishes him but Sniper pulls his hand away and tells him to turn on the Medi Gun. Medic expresses concern (he's come to know Sniper fairly well over the ceasefire) but cautiously agrees. Sniper marvels as red smoke floods over his hand, watching as the skin knits together painlessly. "Thanks Doc" he murmurs. "No problem" Medic replies. A cute, gentle kiss????? After that, the Infirmiry rings clear with Medic's laughter; it's a success!

**Chapter Fourteen: The Setback** -Battle rolls around and this time, the team is full of energy, practically waiting for the bullet wounds so that Medic can show off the new Medi Gun. The Medi Gun works a dream and RED team pushes back with a vengence. However, when Medic goes to Ubercharge the Pyro in a last push for the cart as he has seen the BLU Medic do, everything goes to shit. Within seconds, Pyro is clawing at their mask and screaming, whimpering. Medic doesn't notice and continues the healing beam-Sniper, from his vantage point, sees what's going on and fires a warning shot into the ground away from Medic get him to stop. Eventually, Medic notices that the Medi Gun is doing something seriously bad to Pyro and he cuts the beam. By now, however, the dammage has been done and Pyro is left seriously brain dammaged, little better than a child. Predictably, the after battle haze is at it's usual gloomy low (BLU won. Again.) and Engineer is tinkering with the Medi Gun, muttering, trying to figure out what went wrong and berating himself for not having tested it outside of battle. Medic is doing ervyting he can to treat Pyro, but to no avail.Sniper goes to see him, try to calm him down, but Medic loses it and shoves everything off his desk, pointing to Pyro who sits up on the gurney bed, playing with crayons and paper. Sniper argues back; he doesn't think Medic can blame him just because he was first to test the healing beam and not the Ubercharge. Sniper storms out and Spy, from his wanderings around base, overhears the argument and decloaks in Medic's office, stating that he's willing to help again. Medic, tired of everything, tells Spy to shove off and so he does.

**Chapter Fifteen-The Return:** Spy, determined to prove to himself that he's not a coward, executes his plan singlehandedly with assistance of a syringe of anaesthetic thieved from the Infirmiry. He infiltrates the BLU base and kidnaps the BLU Medic, driving him away in the boot of his car and setting him down in the middle of nowhere. As predicted, the Medic is not happy with any of this and Spy lets him scream himself out. Ruthlessly, Spy attempts to torture information out of him as to the secret of the Ubercharge working for BLU and just before Spy drives a needle into his eyeball, the Medic breaks and tries to gesture to his chest, speaking in German that he put something there. Doubtful, Spy rests his hand over the Medic's chest and is amazed to find his heart beating almost out of his chest. Spy knocks the Medic out again, returns him to the BLU base and leaves a note for Medic before crashing in his bed, exhausted. _Come and see me tomorrow. I know why the Ubercharge failed_.

The next day rolls round and Medic, at the end of his surprisingly long tether, tell Spy to spit it out. Spy doesn't say anything, but removed a picture from his coat pocket and throws it to Medic. It's of the BLU Medic's chest, shirt open. A massive, jagged scar running right over his heart. A pale blue glow comes from behind his skin. Spy, seeing the Medic struggle to put things together, describes how he kidnapped the BLU Medic, hushing Medic's noise of shock, saying how he felt that heartbeat strong as an ox beneath his hand. It would seem that a functioning Ubercharge requires surgery for the target to withstand such a massive overheal. Medic, puzzled by this new information, returns to his Infirmiry and is not seen again outside of battle for two days. Sniper is starting to get worried; the Infirmiry has never been locked up until now and the team's been hearing strange noises from there all day. Sniper eventually gets Medic to let him in after shouting at the door for a bit-animal hearts and various mechanisms litter the workbench;  Sniper resists the urge to vomit. He watches, as under the beam of the Medi Gun, Medic convinces the animal hearts to beat, part flesh, part machine. Sniper, to his later embarassment, can't handle that sight and faints on the spot.

**Chapter Sixteen-The Brave Man:** Sniper wakes on a hospital bed in the quiet hours of morning. Beside him, Pyro sleeps soundly curled up in a ball, basking in the ozone and menthol light of the Medi Gun. Medic, overstressed and tired, unable to sleep, is going through old files at his desk. Seeing that Sniper is awake, he yawns and goes through the usual routine of checking pulse etc. Sniper notices how gentle Medic's treating him (perhaps just out of tiredness) but his heart skips a beat anyway and Medic frowns as he feels Sniper's heart begin to race.  Embarassed by that, Sniper quickly reassures Medic that he's just fine and rushes out the Infirmiry, struggling into his shirt, embarassed about how close they'd come to kissing in Chapter 13 when Sniper forced Medic to heal his cut with the Medi Gun. Medic comments to himself what a strange man the Sniper is as he shuts off Pyro's healing beam sighing defeatedly when he sees it's had no effect on the brain dammage. The Uberhearts is ready, he's run tests over and over and nothing's gone wrong. But after the incident with Pyro, no one's going to trust him to perform open surgery on them. Battle comes around and with Pyro out of commission, RED begins to slip yet again. Even Scout, by now, is barely performing and Sniper sees that somebody has to do something. After another lost battle, he seeks Medic out and observes the healing beam on Pyro, how it apparently causes them no pain so long as the ubercharge isn't deployed. Sniper takes it into his own hands to be brave and he trains the healing beam on himself, inhaling the cool, tingly air coming from it. He tells the Medic that he trusts him not to mess him up, citing the extra kidney implanted some time ago for jarate purposes and how he looked after him after the acute renal failure he suffered in Chapter Four but in reality knowing the Medic is more than capable of this. Just before Medic goes to anaesthetise him, Sniper realises he may never wake up, or end up like Pyro. So as he succumbs gradually to the darkness, he pulls Medic in close and kisses him before settling back with a faint smile on his face. Once Medic calms himself, he begins surgery, praying that the Medi Gun doesn't give out until he's finished.

**_ACT THREE: DESOLATION_ **

Chapter Seventeen-The Promise: Sniper wakes in the same bed as he did after he'd fainted before. Pyro is nowhere to be found, apparently having been released from the infirmiry. Sniper feels a little ill and shaky, but that's to be expected from the anaesthetic. Otherwise, he feels just fine, with a steady, strong heartbeat and a sensation of youth that's not been with him for a while. He goes to sit up but is pushed down again by Medic (no sitting up after heart surgery). Medic presses a stethoscope to his chest, listening to the heartbeat and watching Medic listen like that, Sniper's pulse jumps again and Medic goes to get a shot to calm him, but Sniper grabs his arm and says sleepily. "Nah, Doc, s'just what you do to me." (shit boy i die theyre so gay omg). Sniper assumes it'll be nice to relax after heart surgery, but he quickly gets bored and Medic leaves him to his own devices, tied down to the bed with a panic button beside him incase anything goes wrong. He spends a little time daydreaming about the ceasefire with Medic, the promise he made him then to show him how to hold a rifle. He nearly dips into sultrier day dreams, but is startled from his bored reality by Scout and a deck of cards. Sniper is begrudging at first, wondering how many of the others know the uncharacteristically brave step he took in getting heart surgery for the Ubercharge, but apparently the rumour circulating is that Medic removed the extra kidney claiming he needed it back. Scout is content to just play cards for a while, but eventually he gets around to telling Sniper that he's so ready for this to work, because with the Uberhcharge working, maybe Medic can fix Pyro with what got him in the first place, his bestest friend. Sniper's stomach drops at that, because he knows that Medic won't risk operating on anyone else until he proves a success. No pressure. During battle that day the RED team succeed inbreaking into the BLU Medi Gun storage room and destroying it entirely, resulting in another week long ceasefire for repairs.

**Chapter Eighteen-The Courage:** After a few days resting up and RED team allowed a free leash again due to the ceasefire, Sniper finds himself feeling braver and more capable than before. Whether or ot that's his augmented heart or him realizing he could've died right there on the operating table causing that is unclear. However, he is aware that the Medic may habour feelings for him in return, as he didn't react negatively when Sniper kissed him before the surgery and he has given no signs of remembering it happened. Sniper worries himself as to whether it did happen or not and Medic, assuming it was due to becoming drowsy so quickly, decided not to mention it. But in the same room together, positions reversed as last time it was Medic being tended by Sniper, they both quickly realise that the nearly kiss in front of the new Medi Gun wasn't an accident and that there was something more between them. Cue final, final first kiss. Medic comments about being able to feel Sniper's heartbeat without taking his pulse; emboldened, Sniper pulls Medic down further for a more passionate kiss-it's the first time they get hard around each other.

**Chapter Nineteen-The Hope:** Sniper, fully healed and ready to return to action, is nervous and excited. Nervous, as he's never felt so much pressure before battle and excited, because he feels ten feet tall and built out of steel. Even before attempting the Ubercharge, he makes headshots at least once on every single BLU. Once BLU Ubers their Heavy, however, things go down hill and Scout, Spy, Sniper and Medic are the only ones left in a position to detonate the payload. Scout is holding them off as best he can and Medic isn't bad with his bonesaw, but the BLUs are set to win unless something incredible happens. Crouched behind the bombcart and slick with blood, Sniper snatches what he hopes won't be his last kiss in life from Medic and he takes the Ubercharge. RED watches from respawn as he becomes plated all in bright red, laughing with power as his Kukri separates heads from bodies one after another, bullets pinging off him like grains of rice. Scout and Spy, meanwhile push the cart and as the payload detonates in a parabola of light, the red fades from Medic and Sniper, leaving them standing, shaking and sparking, but whole.

**Chapter Twenty-The Rejoice:** RED might've only won by a hair, but they won and more importantly, now they had the Uber on their side. Sniper, shivering with energy and post-battle adrenalin, is both confused and delighted when Scout and Soldier raise him up on their shoulders in respawn, the whole team whooping and cheering. The only thing Sniper notices is that Scout has tears running down his face and that finally, Pyro might be ok. The team is a mile high after seeing BLU skulk back to their base and the party quickly moves inside. Medic pulls Sniper aside and kisses him fiercely before asking him what the hell he thought they were going to do if the Ubercharge hadn't worked. Sniper shrugs, grins rakeishly and replies "I don't know and I don't care, Doc,  'cause right now, I've never felt better." He then challenges Scout for a race back to base and whilst he can't beat him, he sure manages to keep up better than he had before. Medic, stunned and ruffled, asks Spy what they just winessed. Spy, smiling around his cigarette, replies that that was Sniper in an exceptionally good mood. The party, naturally, ends up in full swing. Sniper, willing to hang around for a while, joins Demo in a toast but as he's taking the first sip, he notices Scout talking to Medic outside. He looks tense then jumps for joy, before running to the Pyro's room and getting ready to bring him down to the infirmiry and settle in there for the next few days. Suddenly Sniper's good mood fizzles out. Excusing himself in the claim of needing the bathroom, he goes out to talk to Medic, who's looking worried. "He thinks that the Ubercarge will fix Pyro." "I know, he told me when I was restin' up after surgery. Will it work, Doc?" "Who knows?" "And, uh, speakin' of surgery" And so Sniper goes on to ask Medic how it went, if there were any complications. They are both aware that something is between them, but how deep it runs has yet to be decided; they only nearly kissed when Sniper's hand was being healed, the kiss before the surgery could be chalked up to being drugged, the one at the bombcart out of fear and well, the one in respawn up to adrenaline. Whilst they walk through base, talking, they end up at Sniper's van. Sniper smiles ruefully and Medic asks him what he was smiling about. Sniper replies he was remembering a promise a little while ago, about teaching Medic how to shoot. Medic fumbles for an excuse not to, seeing exactly where this is going. He realises that he wants this, so he agrees, waiting for Sniper to fetch his rifle and some ammo from the lockers accross the main yard in respawn. Whilst Sniper is gone, Spy decloaks next to Medic, startling him. Medic, indignant, asks how long Spy had been listening and Spy replies that he had heard nothing other talk of shooting some rifles. Medic has to take his word but he gets the sense that Spy is keeping everything to himself. Spy takes the time to apologise for not being there to help when the Infirmiry went up in flames and that he had tempted Sniper into taking a risk on stealing the BLU Medi Gun at the cost of abandonning their comrades. Medic forgives him and apologises for putting Spy in the position he had when asking him for information from the BLU base. Medic also enquires about where Spy got the information about the Uber heart and when Spy deadpans about kidnapping the BLU Medic in the back of his sleek red car, the both of them can't help but to laugh madly and with abandon. Spy leaves courteously when he sees Sniper returning and as they walk out to the shooting range in the face of the sunset, Sniper asks Medic what Spy wanted. "Only a few apologies he rightfully deserved." Despite his reservations, Medic is expecting and looking forwards to Sniper trying to seduce him. They both know it's been a long time coming, but are content to eke things out a little longer. Sniper lines up the bottles and shoots them down neatly. Medic takes the rifle and even at that distance, shatters a few himself. Sniper, voice low, moves in to show him how it's done. This is as bold as Sniper's ever been; there's still a chance it could all go wrong. But Medic glances back with a new look in his eyes, one Sniper's never seen before, before almost lewdly pressing himself up against him. Needless to say, they do the do soon after.

**Chapter Twenty One-The Chance:** Medic and Sniper have reached a new ground somewhere in whatever it is that's between them. However, Scout is begging them to do something about Pyro and Medic performs the necessary surgery without problem. Scout stays by Pyro's side the entire time, sitting in the healing beam with them. Medic is hurt to see them so close and he fears that using the ubercharge might not work. Sniper comes in later to find Medic asleep at his desk, having written pages upon pages of something in German (his diary). Scout has fallen asleep beside Pyro, wreathed in red from the quietly humming Medi Gun. The next day, Medic clears the infirmiry as he prepares to Uber Pyro and hopefully right whatever was wronged the first time around. Sniper, Spy and Scout as well as Demo and Engineer wait outside with baited breath. A few minutes pass before Medic opens the doors. Scout charges in first, arms open for a rough hug. But Pyro looks up dreamily and clutches the air like a child looking to be picked up. Scout's sobbing and tears are coursing down his face, but he hugs Pyro anyway. Engineer removes his hat out of respect.

On the steps outside, Medic's cursing himself violently, over and over. He doesn't notice when Sniper stands beside him until he's stepped aside to allow him to punch the wall. Medic, rage burned out, looks at his now bloodied knuckles with regret and disappointment; Sniper takes his hand in his own, covers it. "You can't save 'em all, Doc." "That does not mean I cannot try." Sniper, at a loss for what else to do, lets Medic fall onto his shoulder and sob quietly.

**Chapter Twenty Two-The Gulf:** They all saw Scout sobbing and hugging Pyro, thought that he understood there was nothing to be done. But the next day, Scout is way off his game and he vanishes straight after battle. Medic sees Scout during battle and makes eye contact; what he sees shot back at him is chilling, stone fucking cold. When they return home, battle lost again, Medic vanishes to his office, saying he wants to be left alone. Sniper obliges, thinking nothing of it until he sees Scout with Pyro, writing something down with one of the coloured crayons littering the ground, then kissing his forehead affectionately even though it's through the mask. He's crying again. Sniper realises it looks like he's saying goodbye.

Scout's off before Sniper realises what's going on. He's about to go back to his van when he hears Demo curse and the sound of chairs falling over. He returns inside to see Demo careening down the hall, crying out "No, don't do it, lad!"

Sniper bursts breathlessly into the hall to see Scout with his pistol at Medic's temple. Medic struggles slightly in his chokehold, but looks resigned, ready to accept his fate. They are all reminded of Scout's history as a street rough and the look in his eyes is the same as Medic got from him on the battle field.

**Chapter Twenty Three-The Pivot:** Sniper watches, tense. He's upset about Pyro as well, he'd considered them a good friend even if they weren't as close as Scout was. But the way that Medic's got his eyes closed, awaiting whatever fate has in store for him, makes Sniper feel faint again. There's nothing he can do except try to talk Scout down.

The tension in the hallway is thick-the four of them waiting for what will happen. Just as Scout goes to pull the trigger, Spy decloaks behind him and Sniper thinks for a moment he's going to shoot Scout, but at the last second, he diverts and shoots the back of his knee instead, crippling him. Demo swoops in to take the gun from Scout's hand, Sniper catches Medic before he falls to the floor. Sniper and Medic are sobbing and so is Scout, who's shrieking at the top of his lungs "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

**Chapter Twenty Four-The End State:** They ended up losing {MAP NAME}, but things are looking up as they get settled into a new base, up in the mountains. There, Scout and Medic are beginning to understand each other, even if they aren't ready to forgive each other just yet. Pyro is happy and healthy, if incapable of speaking as they did before. Spy has accepted his role in the team and forgiven himself for his cowardice in the past. Sniper and Medic are growing slowly into each other, still trying to get over the rocks of Pyro and Scout.  Demo and Engineer support them all seamlessly as they have done in the past. Slowly, the team is brought back to point. They start winning again. Scout returns to the team after a few months taken off-contract.

Cut to scene after battle, with Sniper and Medic relaxing on the roof with another fire drum. Pyro sits before it, shredding paper and making fluttering embers again. Like there, like that, neither of them can really tell the difference with the old pyro. They're being affectionate and thinking of leaving Pyro to their own devices when Scout joins them, hands forced deep in the pockets of his hoodie. He's civil now, at least and Medic quickly excuses himself, thinking there's a confrontation coming. Sniper watches as Scout pulls a crumpled bit of paper from his pocket, revealing it to be the paper he was writing on before kissing Pyro goodbye and going to kill Medic. Sniper realises then why Scout was so devastated after Medic; he had been intending to kill himself afterwards. "I just thought I couldn't live without them." he says softly, looking over at Pyro, who moves over to play innocently with the strings of Scout's hoodie. He laughs, gently removing their hands and rereading what he'd written all that time ago. He pauses before handing the paper to Pyro, who without realising, delicately tears it up and sets it aflame. Scout and Sniper both watch as the embers ascend into the sky.

**EPILOGUE:** Cut to Medic and Heavy playing chess outside of base. Scout and Pyro are throwing snowballs at one another, alongside, but Scout has to stop now and again to show Pyro the best way to pack the snow together. Scout does so then points out Spy smoking on the fireescape. Together they take aim and launch, sniggering when the Frenchman curses them before ducking back inside. They're starting to win this war now, and the sad, distraught looks Scout gives Pyro are getting fewer and fewer. Medic watches intently, Heavy catches him, asks him what he's thinking about. "I think that Scout tried to do what he did because he felt he'd lost a friend. Now, he's realising he now has the oppurtunity to make a new one."

Sniper then enters the scene, bundled up and shivering. He clutches two mugs of hot something, wordlessly offers one to Medic. Demo, his own mug in hand, laughs and steps past, asking Heavy if it's alright if he tries a game; Spy has banished him for the night after a lover's spat. Heavy concedes, knowing Medic's mind was on other things during their game. Sniper and Medic head inside together. Demo laughs seeing that Medic has left his mug behind. Engineer, reading a textbook on the other side of the room, laughs and says lightly "I don't thik doc'll be needing any of that to keep warm tonight."

Cut scene to Medic and Sniper kissing passonately in the empty hallway, breath fogging as they gaze into each other's eyes. Yes, this war was definitely worth fighting, so long as they always remained in search of more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Im still quite proud of myself for having actually plotted everything out here, but I realise the fic is still unfinished. If you've an interest, and feel that you might be able to eiither mimic my writing style or add onto it, please contact me and I will look into whether or not it's possible to transfer authorship over to you, so you can finish what I've started.
> 
> ~Leon


End file.
